


until the last star in the galaxy dies

by Spencer_Grey



Series: you have me [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence, Green Goblin - Freeform, I changed the backstory, I wasn't going to make this gay, M/M, Mutual Pining, Peter is oblivious, Slow Burn, but not really, but then my friends told me to, fight me on this, idiots to lovers, pretend the memes of 2023 are the same as 2019, slowish burn, so you're welcome, the blip is the snap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21669379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spencer_Grey/pseuds/Spencer_Grey
Summary: With his secret identity torn apart by Quentin Beck, Peter goes into hiding. Fortunately, Pepper has a spare room - right next to Harley’s, who moved in after the snap.When Harley is kidnapped, Peter has to put aside his sorrow and pain to come through for his friend, his family.Or were they always something more?
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Harley Keener & Pepper Potts, Harley Parker & Happy Hogan, Peter Parker & Harley Keener, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker/Harley Keener
Series: you have me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587919
Comments: 27
Kudos: 174





	1. Chapter 1

_ From the comfort of Tony’s personal lab in the Avenger’s compound, Peter watches the TV screen with more attention than he’s ever given anything else in his life.  _

_ Toomes’ empty eyes look dead into the camera, like he knows Peter is watching. Even as the judge’s voice resonates through the courtroom, Toomes doesn’t flinch. His face is stoic as he just  _ stares.

_ Peter can hear a girl cry in the background and he knows it’s Liz. He wants to cry too, feeling everything come rushing back like a flood. Fire flashes over his eyes, sand crunches in his fist. The weight of all that rubble crushing him returns and he can’t breathe - his chest is about to burst from all the pressure, he’s burning and he can’t breath - he can’t breathe - he can’t -  _

_ “Pete?” Tony’s voice grabs his attention. Peter keeps his back to him, taking a moment to wipe the building tears away.  _

_ “Yeah?” he responds over his shoulder, acting as though he’s still working on his web-shooters.  _

_ “Turn that off, I have someone I want you to meet,” Tony says.  _

_ Peter grimaces. Usually, the people that Tony introduces to him are either from some prestigious college or a businessman fascinated with the new Stark intern. And right now, Peter can’t be bothered to pretend like he cares.  _

_ But he turns around nonetheless, eyes slightly red rimmed. Peter’s met with someone he never expected to see Tony with - a teenager around Peter’s age. And as his eyes lay upon the kid, Peter’s breath is lodges in his chest and he can’t help his mouth from hanging open. Kind, sparkling eyes - like the sea under the sun - meet Peter’s. There’s an aura of confidence, identical to Tony’s, that ripples from him.  _

_ The kid offers out a hand. “Harley Keener.” _

_ “Peter Parker.” He shakes his hand, electricity sapping between their fingertips.  _

_ “Heard you’re Tony’s new kid,” Harley says, his lips curling into a soft smile - one that Peter is too confused to return. “Don’t worry, I won’t get jealous.” _

_ Thankfully, Tony steps in, patting Harley on the shoulder. “Ignore him, he just likes attention.” _

_ “I got it from you, old man.” _

_ “Anyway,” Tony continues without so much as a blink. “I’ve - uh - I’ve known this little shit since he actually was little. And I figured it’s time for you to meet.” _

_ “Whatcha working on?” Harley asks, looking past Peter to the workbench.  _

_ He stumbles back, trying to cover his web-shooters in a clumsy attempt. “Um, it’s - uh, it’s nothing just - ” _

_ “Dude, relax - I know you’re Spider Man.” Harley laughs at the panic that sweeps over Peter’s face. “I mean, first Iron Man gets a sidekick - ” _

_ “Not a sidekick,” Peter rushes.  _

_ “ - then Tony gets a some prodigy. It’s not really hard to put together.”  _

_ Peter gives a small smile, he sees Tony share it. He’s looking at the two boys - almost proudly. Peter clears his throat and steps aside to let Harley look. He hurries forward, eyes lit up in awe as he admires the devices.  _

_ “You built this?” he asks.  _

_ Peter nods, hiding his smile. “Yeah, but Mr. Stark helped me with a lot of the upgrades.”  _

_ Harley scoffs. “Give yourself a little credit,” he says. “Tell me how they work?”  _

_ “And that’s my cue,” Tony says, clapping his hands together. “Have fun, boys.”  _

_ Tony leaves before Peter can protest but gives him a wink as he goes. It dawns on Peter that this was planned, that Tony is simply trying to distract him from Toomes. And Peter is in no position to refuse the opportunity.  _

-

Music blares through the lab, Brendon Urie’s voice almost deafening but neither of the boys cares. They’re each so entranced in their own minds that they barely register the noise. 

Peter’s hunched over his web-shooters, dismantling and reassembling them - the pattern sparing his mind from having to think. Harley sits on the other end of the workbench, working on his school robotics project that’s coming together slowly. 

It’s peaceful here, nothing to disrupt or distract them. It’s in these rare moments - when Peter can feel that constant weight be lifted from his shoulders - that he feels a semblance of normalcy. 

The music is suddenly turned down, snapping Peter out of his thoughts instantly. 

“How would I add lasers to this?” Harley asks, not looking up from the makings of a small robot - his hands still fiddling with the wires. 

“Lasers?” Peter echoes. 

“Or any kind of weapon. I’m not picky.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Someone tried that a few years ago and got expelled. So don’t even think about.” 

Harley hums, thinking. “Pepper wouldn’t be  _ that  _ mad if I got expelled, would she?” 

“Dude.” 

Harley groans. “This school’s so boring,” he mutters. 

Peter finishes the last piece of his web-shooters, placing one on his right wrist - he aims and fires. It flies across the room and lands on Harley’s cheek, tugging him forward slightly. He grumbles as he swats it away, flipping Peter off. 

“Sorry Midtown doesn’t let you blow shit up every day like your last school,” Peter says. 

“They didn’t  _ let  _ us. They just didn’t know enough about chemistry to actually stop us.” 

Harley shrugs and Peter can only shake his head in disbelief. 

“So, it’s a definite no?” Harley asks. When Peter doesn’t answer, only stares, he adds, “Ugh, fine.” 

Peter laughs softly as Harley turns the music back up and returns his attention to his machine. Peter swears it’s in more pieces that when he started - but Harley promises it’ll be fine. It’s taking all of Peter’s self control not to take over and do the whole project himself. He’s bored out of his mind in the Stark house, confined to the property. 

With his secret identity down the drain, Pepper took him in but refuses to let him leave. 

In the end, Peter gives in to his impulses and pushes his rolling chair so he stops in front of Harley. When he doesn’t look up, Peter sighs dramatically, resting his chin on his hand. Peter sighs again and again and - 

“What?” Harley asks, an amused grin on his lips - dropping the material in his hand. 

Peter answers sweetly, “It won’t work.” 

“Yes, it will.” 

“No, it won’t.” 

“Why not?” Harley gives in, smile fading. 

“It’ll be easier if I show you. Let me help you,” Peter says, reaching for the biggest pieces. “I can get you an A.” 

Harley pulls back and adverts his gaze, his body stiffening as he still pieces together his machine - though he moves slower, unsure of himself now. Peter instantly regrets opening his mouth, biting his tongue to keep himself from making it worse. 

“I can do some things by myself, you know,” Harley says, forcing out each word. 

“Har - ”

FRIDAY’s voice interrupts him. “Ms Potts says that dinner is ready.” 

Harley picks himself up, ditching his work and leaves the shed-turned-lab before Peter can open his mouth again. He slams the door behind him and Peter waits a moment before following. He sees Harley just in front of him, and though he can easily catch up, he gives Harley space. 

Leaves crunch under his feet, the beginnings of fall showing as the sun bounces off the still lake. Peter throws his hand into his hoodie pockets, a soft chill seeping through and he wonders if Tony ever out heaters out in the shed. 

He can’t imagine working out there in the middle of winter - can’t imagine Harley working out there. Peter remembers reading that New York winters are colder than Tennessee and he doesn’t want Harley to freeze. 

Peter takes a deep breath as he enters the house, trying to shake his thoughts from Harley. It’s harder to do so when he sees him sitting at the dinner table. Morgan’s beside him and as he listens intently to some story she’s telling, his eyes flash to Peter. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Pepper calls over her shoulder from the kitchen. 

Peter flashes Morgan a smile as he passes, joining Pepper’s side. He jumps up to sit on the bench next to her. She glances at him from the corner of her eye but doesn’t say anything about it.

“Can you set the table?” she asks.

“I just sat down,” Peter whines, earning a charmed smile Pepper. 

“Thank you.” 

Without so much as an eye roll - as Pepper always seems to know - Peter collects the plates and cutlery. Moving around the table, he’s able to hear the last part of Morgan’s story; her explanation accompanied by wild gestures. 

“And Miss Robin was yelling at him to get down. So he just jumped off.” 

“Is - is he okay?” Harley asks, eyes filled with worry. 

“Yeah, he’s fine. Miss wasn’t happy though.” Morgan giggles. 

Pepper joins them, placing a dish of lasagne in the middle of the table. “Dig in, kids,” she says, settling into her chair at the head. 

Peter takes his usual seat in front of Harley, a space empty for Rhodey. Peter tries not to think the way Harley dishes Morgan’s dinner adorable, instead turning to Pepper. 

“Where’s Rhodey?” he asks. “And Happy?”

Pepper shrugs, glancing at the clock in the kitchen. “Happy’s busy. And Rhodes - he’ll be here soon.” 

As if on cue, Peter hears the front door open. 

“Rhodey,” Harley says, his whole face lighting up. 

Peter twists in his chair to see Rhodey as he closes the door, shrugging off his jacket. 

“Sorry, I’m late.” He hurries to take the seat next to Peter, saying, “Apparently someone suggested a rewrite of the Sokovia Accords and I’m losing my mind.” 

“Because that was such a good idea last time,” Pepper retorts. 

“There’s not enough superheroes to sign it anyway - ” Peter turns to Harley - “pass the garlic bread.” 

He does but his gaze never settles on Peter. instead, Harley turns to Pepper. “Would - would they make  _ him  _ sign it if they knew?” 

She freezes, fork halfway to her mouth and she takes a deep breath, glancing at Rhodey. 

He answers for her. “If they knew, we’ll tell them he’s retired.” 

“What’s gonna happen when daddy wakes up?” Morgan asks, picking at her food. 

The table goes tense, everyone unsure about how to answer. Truthfully, no one had put much thought to it. With everything going on with Peter and picking up the pieces after the Snap, Tony waking from his coma hasn’t been the main focus. There hasn’t been any change in his condition and Helen Cho told them not to expect any for a while. 

“Well,” Harley starts, “first, he’s gonna kick Peter’s butt for being so dumb.” Morgan giggles. “Then, he’ll be able to help you with school - maybe he can get Miss Robin to relax a little.”

It seems to satisfy her enough, she returns to her pasta without another word. Pepper sends Harley a thankful look. 

The conversation dips to lighthearted small talk. Rhodey and Pepper complain mostly about work, pretending to be grieving was starting to get annoying. Morgan retells her troubling story of a kid jumping off a roof and Harley talks about his day at school. 

“Flash made a forty-minute presentation detailing every reason why Peter can’t be Spider Man and showed it at lunch in the library,” he explains with an eye roll. “Number one was that he’s not cool enough.”

Peter snorts. “Sounds like him.”

“How is school going? That robotics project coming together?” Pepper asks, not bothering to hide the motherly concern. 

Harley’s eyes soften in a way Peter rarely sees, giving him almost a childlike look. Peter knows Harley isn’t quite used to this - the family dinners every night, the caring nature of Pepper - and it both breaks and warms his heart to see this. 

“Um, yeah, it’s - I’ve started it at least,” he answers quickly. “Still got a few pieces to go.”

“When’s it due by?” Rhodey asks but there’s something in his face that tells Peter he already knows. 

Harley clears his throat. “Next week - but it’s fine, I’ll finish.”

Rhodey smiles and Peter gets the feeling that Tony was as much as a procrastinator as Harley. Pepper only rolls her eyes, a silent warning that she’s given Harley plenty of times. 

When there’s a moment of silence as everyone eats, Peter feels anxiety creep into his stomach. He bounces his knee instinctively. There’s been a question on his mind for the last few weeks and he already knows the answer - but maybe, maybe today he’ll get somewhere. 

“Can I see my Aunt May?” Peter blurts out.

It sends shock waves through Rhodey and Pepper, freezing them. Peter’s heartbeat echoes in his ears, deafening as he glances between the adults. 

“Listen, sweetheart - ” Pepper tries but she’s interrupted by Harley. 

“It’s only fair,” he says to Peter’s surprise. “He hasn’t seen her in months.” 

“It’s not that simple,” Rhodey says. 

“Yes, it is.” 

Pepper’s fork clatters onto her plate, all eyes are drawn to her. She leans forward, her face controlled - somehow scarier that if she was angry - and Peter really needs to learn to shut his mouth. 

“Morgan, go to your room please,” Pepper says softly, waiting until she hears the definite sound of the girl’s door closing down the hallway. “Listen, Peter is a wanted criminal. He can’t just go wandering through the city. It’s too risky.” 

“People won’t turn him in. Everyone loves Spider Man, they don’t believe that shit Mysterio said,” Harley stresses. 

“Language. And you don’t know that.” 

“It’ll be quick. No one will see me,” Peter promises, he doesn’t hide the desperation in his voice. 

“Or she can come here,” Harley offers. 

Rhodey’s quick to answer. “No. This place is private for a reason, we can’t lose the safety we have.”

Harley opens his mouth to object again but Peter shots him a look - _ don’t make it worse _ . Even more surprising than Harley coming to his defense, he listens. Pepper accepts the win and returns to her meal with a deep sigh. 

Peter can only take another minute of the thick tension before he stands. “I’m not hungry,” he says, cleaning his plate before hurrying to his room upstairs. 

He doesn’t try to slam his door but it rattles against the hinges nonetheless. It makes him feel like a whiny child, arguing with the people that he can never repay and storming off when he doesn’t get what he wants. But there’s a cosmic ache in his chest and he knows it can only be healed by May. 

After his parents, after Ben, she was the only family he had for years. May was his world and now, that’s been taken. Peter hasn’t seen her since he swung through his bedroom window with enough time to pack a bag, give her a hug, and go flying through the city to meet Happy at a rendezvous. 

It’s not that Peter doesn’t understand - he gets that the police have more evidence against him than Quentin Beck - but he’s still a person, still a kid that needs his Aunt. 

A knock at the door breaks through his thoughts. Harley walks in, a stack of paper in his hands and his face furrows together when he sees Peter. 

“What?” Peter snaps, too defensively. 

Harley sighs. “You’re on the ceiling again.” 

_ Oh _ . Peter realises he was pacing - hanging upside down after stopping in his tracks. He reaches up, holding onto the ceiling before jumping down. Landing before Harley, Peter stands awkwardly. 

“Uh - thanks for, you know, helping me out down there,” he says. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Harley shrugs, moving past Peter to drop his papers onto his desk. 

He leaves again before Peter can answer. In complete confusion, he stands there. 

“All right then,” he mutters to himself. 

Harley comes back a few seconds later, chair in his hands. He invites himself in again and places it next to the one already by Peter’s desk. 

“If you really wanna help me with school, then teach me everything I need to know for my algebra test tomorrow,” Harley says, sitting down. “And history.”

“What changed your mind?” Peter moves to sit nonetheless. He sweeps the paper out in front of him, reading over the material. 

Harley taps his fingers against the wood desk, blowing out a breath. “I'm a dumbass. I’m sorry about - all that. I - I don’t know why, I just - I don’t want you to think I’m stupid because I’m not as smart as you.”

“You’re not stupid, Harley,” Peter says softly. 

“Well, growing up around Tony and not being able to keep up all the time kinda gives you a complex.” 

Peter hesitates before answering, unsure what words could make this better. “To be fair, I don’t think Tony knows what he’s saying half the time. And you’re literally seventeen,” he says at last. “Comparing yourself to what, a sixty something?

Harley chuckles. “Okay, that’s enough feelings for today. And I’m the only one that’s allowed to call Tony old. Got it?”

“Don’t tell me I said that.”

“Okay, now, you have twelve hours to teach me half a semester worth of content.” 

Peter cracks his knuckles. “Get ready to learn a thing.” 

-

It’s three-thirty AM and Peter’s eyes burn. The letters and numbers have started to blur together. 

“When was the war of eighteen - twelve?” Peter asks for the fifth time. 

Harley sits with his hands drawing the edges of his eyes back, staring at the papers like they could give him the secrets to the universe. He doesn’t answer. 

“Harley,” Peter begs. “When was the war of eighteen - twelve?” 

“I need caffeine,” he says instead of a real answer. 

Harley gets up and leaves Peter on the brink of tears at his desk. He’s starting to wonder if he should give up, if Harley hasn’t learned everything by now then he never will. Peter blinks, startling awake when he feels himself slipping in sleep. 

Harley comes back into the room a minute later, carrying an armful of Redbull. He drops them onto Peter’s bed, taking one and leaving almost a dozen. Harley chugs back half his can. 

“It’s a bit rude to drink that in front of me when you know I can’t have any,” Peter complains. 

“Yeah, the whole enhanced metabolism thing, I remember. But - ” Harley throws a can to Peter, who despite his exhaustion, catches it with ease - “have you tried drinking enough caffeine to kill a small child?”

“Weird unit to use but no.” Peter opens the can and ends up drinking three in a minute. After starting his fourth one, he has a thought. “Where’d you even get all these?” 

Harley smiles into his second can, eyes already wide and bordering manic. “I might have put a mini fridge in a false back in my wardrobe.” 

Peter lets out a laugh that’s more similar to a cackle - covering his mouth when he remembers how late it is. Harley doubles over as a silent laugh ripples through his body. 

By three - forty-three, Peter’s drunken ten more cans and is only vibrating slightly. 

“Hey - hey, Peter, Pete, weird question but what time - when does May get off work?” Harley stumbles, as he hangs upside down off the bed. 

From where Peter crouches on the ceiling, Harley looks the right way up. He doesn’t think about the question before answering. 

“If she was on night shift, she’ll be getting home soon,” he says. “Or she’ll be waking up.”

“ _ So _ ,” Harley draws out the word, “either way, she’ll be up when we get there.” Harley grins widely. 

“Happy won’t take us without Pepper’s permission.” 

“So Happy doesn’t take us.” 

Peter’s eyes widen slightly when he finally process what Harley means. “I can’t drive, though.” 

Harley shrugs. “I can, kinda.”

Peter drops to the floor. “What are you waiting for then?” 

Harley flips over himself, landing on his feet and jumps upright. He simply nods and the boys head off. Peter’s hand is shaking as he slowly opens the door, just enough for them to slip out. Tiptoeing down the stairs, Harley leads - skipping steps and jumping across the floor. 

“What are you doing?” Peter whispers, though, he follows the same actions. 

“Avoiding the creaky floorboards,” Harley says, leaping over the last three stairs, landing softly on the floor. 

“What the fuck?” Peter’s voice is barely above a mumble as he stares at Harley’s agility. 

Harley winks. 

Harley dips into the kitchen, finding Pepper’s purse and fishes out her keys to her Audi. He dangles them in front of Peter’s face. Peter struggles to suppress his giggles. Grabbing a pair of shoes each, they slip out the front door and enter the freezing night air. 

Peter lets out a sharp breath, taking in the moon shimmering on the lake water. 

“Seriously,” Peter says, voice travelling as a breeze passes. “When did you become a ninja?” 

The wind carries through Harley’s hair, the moonlight illuminating his mischievous smile - Peter’s breath catches in his throat and he’s not sure why. 

“Been sneaking out since I was, like, eleven. Haven’t been caught yet so I must be doing something right.” 

Harley scans the property, spotting Pepper’s car parked near the shed. Hyped on caffeine, Peter doesn’t have a coherent thought until he’s in the passenger seat - and Harley’s already pulling out of the driveway onto the main road. 

“Is - is this a good idea?” Peter asks, leg bouncing with excessive energy. 

Harley doesn’t answer straight away, toying with the radio to find a station. Once satisfied, he says, “Peter, chill, we’ll be back before Pepper even wakes up.” 

“Are we gonna have enough time?” 

“My dude, thirty minutes there, thirty minutes back. Gives you and May plenty of time to catch up,” Harley explains. “I got you.” 

“Now if you used those math skills for your test.” 

“I  _ will  _ turn this car around.” 

Peter shakes his head as he laughs, he almost wishes Harley would. But it’s too late now. Anyway, it’ll be worth it - he’ll see May. _ She’s worth it _ . The mantra repeats in his mind as the trees pass by in a blur. 

Ten minutes of silence pass, the radio barely a hum in the background as Harley drives. His fists clench tighter around the steering wheel and as he blatantly misses a stop sign, he speaks up quietly. 

“I’ve been thinking - ”

“Wow, didn’t knew it did that,” Peter mutters on instinct. 

“ - since you came to live with us. And - with this whole Spider Man shit, you - I need you to promise me something. You can’t end up like Tony.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asks. 

“Tony didn’t think he was going to survive using the gauntlet. He - he was ready to sacrifice himself for the world. And know he’s all burnt and in a coma,” Harley explains, his eyes never leaving the road though Peter is staring intently at him. “And we can’t tell anyone he’s alive because then they’ll try to bring him into all their shit like they always do.”

“Mr. Stark’s a hero. It’s what they do.”

“I don’t care. My dad left years ago, my mom fucking left the country while I was dusted. You and Pepper and Morgan are the only family I have. And when this Mysterio bullshit is done and you go back to being the friendly neighbourhood Spider Man, can you please stay that?”

Peter sighs. “It’s not that easy. It’s not my choice,” he tries. 

“ _ No _ ,” Harley snaps. “It is your choice and I need you to make the right one. I need you to come home at the end of each day, I need you to not go running off into space or fighting a bunch of superheroes that are decades older than you.” 

Peter leans forward, placing his hand over one of Harley’s on the wheel - he’s freezing, is his first thought. Then he says, “Harley, I can’t promise that I won’t get hurt or I won’t end up in some foreign country getting the shit beaten out of me.  _ But _ , I can promise that I won’t try to die.”

Harley scoffs. 

“You’re my family too,” Peter continues. “I don’t want to leave you and honestly, I don’t want to end up like Mr. Stark. But if it keeps you safe, if it keeps everyone I love safe - I’ll do anything.”

Harley’s quiet for a moment, he takes a shaky breath. “You don’t always have to be the hero, Peter. You can be a normal teenager, you know that right?”

“I don’t think so, I was always supposed to be Spider Man.”

“Don’t give me that destiny bullshit.”

“Hey, if aliens and magic are real, then why not fate?” Peter leans back into his seat, kicking his feet against the dashboard. Only relaxing when he sees Harley’s fists loosen their hold on the steering wheel. 

The air seems to lighten. Peter thinks a weight has been lifted off Harley’s chest, something he’s been holding for too long. He had wondered who was going to break first, he knows the last few months haven’t been easy on anyone. And Harley’s been the one that’s witnessed those initial breakdowns, the panic attacks as Peter’s world fall apart around him. 

Peter’s put on lot on him - his fears laid out like a painting of his inner workings. It seems fair that he gives Harley the space to vent out his own grievances, only wishing that he would do it more often. But these moments - when whatever walls Harley so often hides behind break and Peter can start to see the beginnings of him - are the ones Peter cherish the most. 

When it’s just them. 

“Oh, hey, I just remembered something,” Harley says. “Ned gave me this letter to give you the other day.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I left it in my bag. I’ll give it to you when we get back.” 

-

The bustling city almost makes Peter forgot the hour - the lights of cars and buildings shielding the dark sky. As Peter gives Harley directions, tension - more likely the caffeine - leaves his body. He’s home. 

A police car speeds past, sirens blaring. Peter freezes. He can’t breathe until he sees it turn a corner through the rear vision mirror. He ignores Harley’s concerned glance and points to a large building on the right. 

“This is it.” 

Peter’s out the door as the car rolls to a stop. He scans the apartment building, counting windows to find May’s place and sees the lights are on. 

“Hurry up,” he says when he realises Harley isn’t moving. 

He notices how uncomfortable Harley looks but doesn’t process it enough. After a cautious glance around, Harley joins Peter - jogging behind him to an alley beside the building. Peter finds the fire escape, leaps to pull down the ladder and climbs. 

He’s pulled himself to the top in barely a second, feet pounding on the grate as he climbs the steps. Distantly, he hears Harley behind him but never slows down. Peter’s breathing is ragged as he flies - his mind racing. 

He’s almost there, almost to May. He misses her more than he knew was possible, that ache in his chest throbbing with every step. 

Peter doesn’t register it but he’s outside the living room window, tapping against the glass rapidly with his knuckles. It’s a long heartbeat later when the curtains are pulled open and - god, Peter was almost starting to forget the finer details of her face.

May stares back at him, dark eyes wild and brimming with tears. There are bags under them, exhaustion sewn into her skin. Her mouth forms his name and holy fuck, Peter is _ home _ . 

May’s hands fumble with the latch as she opens the window, stepping back to let him clamber through. The moment his feet touch the floor, May’s arms are around his neck. Peter’s arms wrap around her and he burrows his face into the crook of her neck. 

“My boy,” she mutters, pulling back to look at him. She cups his cheeks, thumb brushing across his skin to wipe away a tear he didn’t know was falling. 

Peter chokes on his words, unable to say anything that could fully express himself. 

“Mind moving? It’s freezing out here.” Harley’s voice breaks through the moment. 

May jumps a little, stepping back. She glances at Peter as Harley climbs through the window, sitting on the ledge. 

“May, this is Harley,” Peter says. 

“Right, I - I remember you from the funeral,” May says, relaxing as she smiles kindly at him. “Peter’s told me a lot about you.” 

“He has?” Harley looks shocked, the corner of his mouth twitching up. 

“Of course. Come on, sit down, tell me what’s been happening.” 

Peter almost collapses into the couch, fitting into the folds like he never left. May sits next to him, folding her legs under her as her gaze never leaves him. Harley curls into an armchair. 

“How are you, baby?” May asks, leaning her head against the couch. 

“Could be worse, you know. Pepper’s been really good to me - she’s incredible taking care of three kids,” Peter explains. 

May smiles - the kind of bittersweet smile that only further breaks Peter’s heart. 

“I’m glad. I - I really miss you - ” May reaches out to take Peter’s hand - “Do you know when this whole thing’s gonna blow over?” 

Peter squeezes her hand. “I don’t know. Rhodey and Pepper are trying but Beck was good. He - no one can prove the video’s fake so - ” he trails off, making a gesture.  _ What can you do. _ “Anyway, what’s been going on with you?” 

He can see on her face that she wants to keep talking about him but May takes a breath and starts explaining the last few months of her life. Peter realises halfway through that he hasn’t heard a word she’s said - he’s too busy focusing on her face. Desperate to memorise every inch of her face, the curves of her hand, her voice, her smile. 

It could be months, years even before Peter’s name is cleared - before he’s able to see his aunt whenever he wants. The thought sends his heart racing. What if he’s on the run forever? He can’t hide in the lake house for long - what happens when he’s found out? 

“Peter?” May asks, breaking through his anxiety. “Honey, it’s real late. You boys should be asleep and I should be at work.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Peter says, rubbing at his face as he pushes those thoughts away. He can’t breakdown now, not here. 

He stands with her, giving her one last hug. May kisses him on the forehead. 

“And Harley, you’re welcome here anytime,” she says. “We all have to stick together.”

“Oh, um, thanks.” Harley smiles softly. 

May sniffles, trying to stop herself from crying. “Okay, get going. And I won’t tell Pepper about this.” She gives a knowing grin. 

Leaving the warmth of May’s apartment makes the cold leech onto Peter’s bones. He shivers, closing the window behind him. May blows a kiss before Peter and Harley make the descent down the fire escape. He lets Harley set the pace this time. 

“I just realised how weird that would’ve been for you,” Peter says. 

Harley shrugs. “No worries. You needed to see her.” 

They reach the rusty ladder, climbing down even as it shakes in its hinges. Once Peter reaches the ground, checking that no one’s seen them, he turns to Harley. 

“You good to drive?” he asks. 

“We’ll see.” Harley checks his phone quickly. “We still have twenty minutes until we need to go. Anything else you want to do?” 

Peter thinks for a moment. He could go see MJ or Ned - but it’ll give him only ten minutes and he knows that dragging himself away from either of them after May with be borderline impossible.

“There’s a pizza place a few blocks away,” he says with a shrug.

Harley makes a face instead of answering, heading for the car. Peter gives a few basic directions and tries to relax. Instead, he chooses to distract himself.

“When did you learn to drive?” He watches the ease Harley has as he seems to drive like the car’s an extension of himself. “I know Mr. Stark would never let you touch any of his cars.” 

Harley chuckles. “I tried but he said - and I quote - he’d rather throw himself off the damn Avengers Tower and ask Steve to catch him than let me drive his Porsche.” 

Peter snorts. “Was this after the Walmart parking lot fight?” 

“Nah, like a week after all the Ultron shit.” 

“Okay, so when did you learn?” 

“Well, in my hometown, no one gives a shit if an eight year old is driving down the main road.” 

“Fuck, it’s terrifying that I can’t tell if you’re joking.” 

Harley only smiles, refusing to answer. His eyes scan the road, taking in the city’s sights in the glow of the vibrant lights. Peter finds himself watching Harley rather than anything else, entranced with the way his eyes reflect the rainbow of lights. 

It’s less than five minutes later that they arrive at the pizza place, Harley pulls into a car park and they pile out. Peter pulls his hood up as Harley opens the door - a bell rings. An empty looking college kid is sitting at the register, she barely looks up as they enter. 

Harley goes to order and Peter hangs back. “A slice of pepperoni and Hawaiian, please.”

The girl takes the notes that Harley fishes from his wallet, blinking at the two twenty’s. 

“Take the rest as a tip,” he says. 

She hurries to get their order, thanking him as he takes both pieces and they leave. The boys stand outside the store, leaning against the concrete wall. Facing the cold is easily the better option than the hell they will face if either one accidentally drops their food or leave any trace of their little escapade in Pepper’s car

Peter’s pepperoni is stale and almost cold but he loves it nonetheless. The small taste of normality is enough to fuel him for a while - and standing here, next to Harley in the middle of the night after sneaking out is all he could have asked for. 

Harley looks behind suddenly, drawing Peter’s attention to the mural on the wall he hadn’t noticed before. It’s small, an array of golds and reds,  _ Rest In Peace _ is written over a painting of Iron Man. 

“Never realised how much he meant to the world,” Harley says. 

“They spent so much time criticising him and now that he’s gone, he’s a hero.” Peter shakes his head. “It’s not fair.” 

Harley traces the painting, fingers hovering over the arc reactor. “I’d rather he wakes up to this legacy than the world thinking him a monster.” 

“It never mattered to him what people were saying. Only what we thought.” 

Harley scoffs. “C’mon, that man was crippled by insecurity.” 

“You learned from the best?” 

Harley gives a breathy laugh. “Okay, we should probably get going,” he says, finishing the last of his slice. “I’ll take an hour power nap before school.”

“You’re a mess and I hate you.” 

“Me too.” 

As Peter goes to shovel the last of his pizza into his mouth, a shiver passes down his spine - the hairs on his arms sticking upright. His body tenses and he is painfully aware of his missing web-shooters. 

“Peter?” Harley asks cautiously. 

“Get behind me.” Peter’s eyes scan the area, his spider senses are going crazy. He’s afraid to move - though he can’t feel any drones nearby, he can’t trust it. 

Harley shuffles closer to the wall, his hand coming to rest on Peter’s shoulder. “What’s happening?” 

“I don’t - ”

A car skids around a corner, coming into view just down the road. The black SUV raging closer and it’s clear to Peter that this is the danger. His fists clench, all he can do is wait. 

The car stops in the middle of the road and four men, clad in Kevlar and armed, pile out. 

“Stay back,” Peter says before rushing forward. 

Each man fires and Peter just moves fast enough to dodge the bullets. His fists collides with the face of one of the men, he ducks to avoid a blow from another. Ripping the first man’s gun from his hands, Peter uses it to strike another opponent. 

He twists around in time to dodge the back of a gun from hitting his skull. Peter lowers, throwing out a leg and knocks a man’s legs from under him. Jumping back up, Peter punches a third man - thick body armour doing nothing to stop his fist. 

Peter’s brain goes on autopilot throughout the fight, leaning on his spider senses more than he had before. Though, within the chaos, he doesn’t have time to defend against the foot that pushes his knee from under him. A fist connects with his cheek as he falls. The men are trying to circle him, trap him - and Peter can only roll to escape it.

As he flips his head up, breathing hard, time slows as his eyes meet Harley’s - the panic in them sends a wave of strength through Peter. 

He stands, twisting around in time to strike the man running for him. Peter punches the man and he’s unconscious before he hits the ground. The three other men hesitate - Peter’s glare daring them to try. 

They do. 

Peter’s movements are a blur, all limbs flying in all directions as he barely gets touched. Another man now lays unconscious on the road. 

No matter how out of practice Peter may be, everything he knows comes rushing back - it’s comforting. The familiarity of a fight reminding him of the easier days. 

As he goes to land a finishing blow one the second to last man, a cry breaks through his concentration. 

Harley. 

Peter spins around to find another armoured man standing before Harley -  _ how didn’t Peter notice _ \- gun raised. And before Peter can open his mouth, the gun fires and Harley slumps to the ground. 

The butt of a gun collides with the back of Peter’s skull, knocking him to the ground. 

His vision blurs, his head throbs as the pressure seems to hold his whole body down. Peter pushes himself up just in time to see the man throw Harley over his shoulder. Another gun slams into his head and Peter blacks out. 

The last thing he hears is the SUV speeding away, Harley inside. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Peter isn’t fully conscious and yet he’s jumping to his feet, swaying but at least able to stand upright. His head is throbbing but he can’t spare the energy to worry about it - through the ache, there’s only one thought:  _ Harley _ . 

His memory takes a moment to catch up but when it does, Peter spins around. He can’t tell how long he was out but there’s no sign of the car or any of the men. As he whips his head around - his brain feeling like he’s underwater - he lays eyes on the girl working at the pizza place. 

Her eyes are wide in shock as she stands with a phone to her ear. Peter goes to take a step forward - unsure of what to say, but all he knows is that his face is in full view. She’s seen him, he has to - what? Beg her into silence? The distinct sound of police sirens calls his attention, they can’t be more than a few blocks away. 

Peter runs. 

His feet pound against the pavement, sending jolts up his legs - his arms pumping. His mind goes blank. He forces back the panic, the fear that’s threatening to eat away at him. Peter speeds around a corner, slipping on the pavement as he uses a lamp post to whirl him around. 

The sirens are closer now, at least he thinks they are. His head still feels too heavy and his vision keeps blurring when he tries to look behind him. Peter stumbles over a lifted piece of the sidewalk, it sends him falling flat onto his face - his palms grazing over the concrete. The sting grounds him for a moment, he needs to calm down. He needs to think. 

The pizza girl definitely recognised him but the question is if she told the cops. Harley might have been right, the people of New York may not turn him in - but Peter knows he can’t take that chance. As long as he’s in the city, Peter’s in danger. He forces himself to take a deep breath as he takes in his surroundings. 

He’s - he’s not far from May’s, actually. He can see the street from here. Maybe a minute’s run but it’s out in the open. Too risky. 

Peter looks around, finds an alley on the other side of the road and makes a break for it. In the shadows between the buildings, Peter does the only thing he can think of; he climbs. Scaling the brick wall, he reaches the roof in seconds. And from his new perspective, he can see the flashing red and blue lights have reached the pizza place. 

He prays he can’t be seen from up here and sets off. Peter’s feet hardly touch the ground, flying as he leaps onto the neighbouring roof. Running, jumping, running - Peter never slows, never lets himself stop to even breath. 

He sees May’s building coming up, the only problem is that he’s on the wrong side of the street. He should’ve brought his web-shooters. Why would he leave the house defenceless? But he didn’t - not completely - he has himself and that has to work. He doesn’t have a choice, it has to be enough. 

Peter slows to a stop, his momentum almost pushing him over the edge. He catches his breath before moving to the opposite end of the roof. He eyes his goal. May’s building is right in front of him. He can do this. 

Time slows, Peter’s heart the only thing beating in the quiet. One foot in front of the other, he needs to be safe before he can even worry about Harley, he will be okay - 

Peter steps onto the ledge, pushing off with all his strength. 

He’s floating through the air. Nothing to hold him, to weigh him down and it’s a brief moment of peace. And as quickly as it slows, time slams into him as it catches up. May’s building approaching too quickly. Peter is already losing height, the roof’s edge is slipping away from his reach.

“Shit, shit, shit,  _ shit _ .” 

Peter crashes against the wall, face smashing into the brick. His fingers scramble to stick but he slides down, skinning his hands even more until he drags himself to a stop. Peter crawls across the wall, sneaking into the alley he was previously in. It’s easier this time to find the window to May’s living room. 

He taps against the glass but in his rush, a series of cracks appear. Peter decides against any hesitations and opens the window, tearing the panelling with his uncontrolled strength. He reminds himself to repair it as he climbs in. The lights are off, May’s gone to work and Peter bumps into every object possible to reach the light switch. 

Standing alone in his old home - a place that was once he sanctuary, now full of bittersweet memories - leaves Peter numb. His mind is so chaotic that he can’t process any of it. 

Peter blinks and it feels like hours have passed. 

He hopes his resurgence won’t have any impacts on her - he never even stopped to ask how his charges affected her. 

And now Harley is gone. There’s no doubt that it’s Peter's fault, that those men were trying to hurt him and are more than happy to use Harley to get that. If Harley’s still alive - Peter can’t be sure what happened, if anything he saw was real. 

Peter’s frozen. If -  _ if _ , Peter should have more hope but after everything, he can’t imagine trusting that all will be okay - Harley is still breathing, then he’s almost definitely being hurt in Peter’s behalf. And May, Ned, and MJ are going to face the brunt of Peter’s dumb mistake. Reporters and police invading every piece of their lives for some information on Peter. And he’s going to throw this all onto Pepper and Rhodey - who have so much to handle without this. 

He finds himself in the kitchen, unaware of ever moving. But his whole body is tense and shaking, his chest tight and he can feel the panic attack creeping for him. Peter leans against the bench, his hands tighten around it and lets the sharp edge dig into his skin. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he mutters under his breath. “Not here.” 

He needs to get to the Stark house, then he can panic. But now, he needs to find a way back. 

Peter’s eyes scan the kitchen as he thinks, and they land on the fridge door. Specifically, a piece of paper held up by a magnet. A phone number with a small  _ Happy  _ written over top. 

Snatching the paper, Peter hurries to the landline. With his trembling hands, he almost drops the phone as he punches in the numbers. Tapping his foot against the tiled floor, Peter waits - rather impatiently - as the call tone sounds over the phone. 

It’s only a few seconds but it drags, and eventually Happy picks up.

“Hello?” he says blearily. 

“Happy, it’s Peter. I need - I need your help, I need you to pick me up. I fucked up, really bad,” Peter rushes. 

He hears some shuffling on the other end of the call, Happy perking awake to Peter’s panic. “Okay, um, what’s happening? Where are you?”

“At May’s.”

“What are - nevermind. Does Pepper know?”

Peter hears sirens - close, they’re so fucking close to him. They know. 

“Happy, please, I’ll explain later. Just help me,” Peter begs.

Happy sighs, but Peter hears the jangling of keys nonetheless. “Can you get to that place Retro on - on Fourth? I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay - yeah, okay, I can do that. Thank you.”

“Be safe, Peter,” Happy says, hanging up. 

Before he leaves, Peter leaves a note - “ _ Sorry for the window. You know who to call _ ” - and scales the side of the apartment building again. He takes the roofs, knowing the path to the restaurant Happy mentioned by heart. Peter looks back to the pizza place and sees that the police have moved on. He’s half a block away when they pull up to May’s building - half a dozen cars surround the entrance. 

Peter quickly regrets leaving the note, knowing that it’ll only cause more problems for May but he keeps moving. 

Retro is almost eleven blocks away but Peter makes it there in eight minutes. He pushes his body further than he thought was possible - and further than what should be healthy. Peter comes to a rest on the building opposite of Retro, crouching onto the ledge as he waits for Happy. 

He tries slowing his breathing, the short burst of energy leaving him exhausted. Peter can almost feel the caffeine being burned from his system and the looming threat of crashing is nearing. 

Scratch that - _ it’s here _ . His head is pounding, heart beating out of his chest and his stomach drops. Peter goes with it. 

This kind of falling is different, he doesn’t feel like he’s floating, there’s no peace - the earth has been ripped from under him and gravity is throwing him down, down, down. 

Peter slams into the pavement below. His head collides with the hard ground and his breath is stolen from his chest. Pain ripples through his body. Peter wheezes - no matter how often he gets hurt, the pain is still pain. Slowly, he rolls onto his side, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. 

With his head still buzzing, Peter brings his feet under him. 

As he stands, he says to himself, “Just breath, you’re okay. Let’s go, let’s - ”

Peter looks up, eyes meeting those of a uniformed police officer. Peter can only sigh. 

“I, uh, I saw you fall,” the officer says, her dark eyes glint in amusement when Peter rolls his shoulders and grimaces. “Wanted to see if you were hurt.”

In the street lamp light, she looks young - fresh on the force. She glances around, eyebrows furrowing in concern. 

“You know I’m supposed to bring you in, right?” she asks, crossing her arms. 

“Why aren’t you?” Peter chokes out. He’s grown used to this feeling of panic, barely registering it now as his heart continues to race. 

She looks to the ground, clearing her throat. “You - you’re a good kid, not the criminal some people think you are.”

“So, what happens now?”

“You get out of the city and I pretend like this never happened,” she says bluntly.

Peter blinks, shocked. “Thank you. I, um, can I know your name?” he asks. 

“Eleanor. Now, Peter, you should get going.” Eleanor smiles softly as him as she starts walking backwards. 

“Thank you, Eleanor.” 

Peter turns. Strangely, talking to her calmed him down a bit, his body only aching now. He takes a deep breath and waits for Happy, keeping to the shadows against the building he’s standing before. 

Happy pulls up two minutes later and Peter hurries across the road, throwing himself into the passenger seat. He melts into the comfort of the material.

“Are you hurt?” 

“Only everywhere,” Peter answers, closing his eyes. 

Happy hums in response. When Peter opens his eyes again he finds that they’ve already let the borders of New York City. Blinking away his confusion, he hears Happy chuckle. 

“What time is it?” Peter asks. 

“Almost five. I gave Pepper a call and - ”

Peter groans. 

“ - she’s waiting for us. You have a lot to explain.” 

Peter slouches in his seat, almost slipping off as he goes. “Happy, I fucked up.” 

“You mentioned that.” 

“No - it’s - I - ” Peter rubs at his eyes, awkwardly sitting up - “I didn’t go alone. Me and Harley went to see May.” 

Happy inhales sharply, glancing at Peter. “Where is he now?” 

“I don’t know,” he whispers, voice breaking as tears brim in the corners of his eyes. “I - ”

“Stop,” Happy interrupts, “save it for Pepper.” 

-

Peter almost starts crying the moment he spots Pepper standing on the porch, dressed impeccably despite the hour. He forces himself to leave the warmth of the car, shivering as a breeze passes at the same time. 

He hangs in head in shame as Pepper moves to meet him and Happy - the controlled rage and disappointment apparent on her face. 

“What were you thinking?” she hisses. 

Happy takes one step in front of Peter. “We should go inside.” 

“I don’t want to wake up Morgan or Harley,” she answers more gently. 

“That’s the thing,” Happy starts. 

Pepper whips her hardened glare onto him and Happy takes a step back, looking to Peter -  _ good luck _ , he says silently. 

“What?” she demands.

“Harley - he came with me.” Peter can’t look up, can’t bring himself to look Pepper in the eyes. “We - we were getting food and they just came out of nowhere and I tried fighting them off. But it happened so fast that I couldn’t stop them and - ”

“Breath, sweetheart,” Pepper says, still coldly. “Where’s Harley?” 

“They took him.” 

Pepper sighs deeply, her demeanour shifting. “So, you’re telling me that you and Harley snuck out to see your Aunt after I told you not to. You risked both your safety and now Harley’s - what? Been kidnapped?”

He nods. 

Before Peter can register it, she moves in front of him, her arms wrapping around his body tightly. One hand comes to cup the back of his head, her thumb rubbing comforting circles into his hair. Peter’s arms tighten around her waist, pulling her as close to his body as he can. 

She feels like May. 

As Pepper pulls back, she frames his face with her hands - leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. His vision is obscured with tears streaming down his face. 

“Go inside, honey,” Pepper says. “Wash up. Get some sleep if you can.” 

As Peter walks into the house - overwhelmed to the point of numbness - he hears the adults whispering behind him. 

“I’ll call Rhodey, see what he can do,” Happy says. 

“Any idea who did this?”

“Tony has a million enemies - could be any of them.” 

“How would any even find them? If either one was tracked, then we’re not safe here,” Pepper says. 

“My best guess is facial recognition, probably. There’s cameras on every street.”

Peter’s at the base of the stairs, hand holding the railing but he can’t bring himself to move. Their bedrooms are right next to each other - it’s only been a few hours but he’s already falling apart without Harley. 

He decides against his bed, instead, walking into the lounge and collapsing onto the couch. Covering his eyes with his arm, he hears Happy and Pepper enter a few moments later. Pepper’s heels click towards him, stopping at the end of the couch and she throws a blanket over him. 

Peter can’t sleep, no matter how exhausted he was before. Pepper and Happy mutter in the kitchen and Peter can feel their occasional glances to him. 

He shouldn’t be here, he needs to be out there - looking for Harley, getting him back. Peter can’t just sit by while he’s gone, alone and defenceless.  _ Spider Man _ can’t sit by. He’s supposed to be a hero, he’s meant to help people like Harley but no, he’s here. Selfishly trying to sleep because he’s tired, because he took a risk, because he’s a stupid kid that never thinks. 

“Mind giving me a ride to work,” Pepper says, breaking Peter from his thoughts. 

“That’s my job. A bit early though, isn’t it,” Happy comments. 

Pepper’s heels stop as she opens the door, letting the cool air in. “Stop by Rhodey’s first, give him the rundown and see what he can do.” 

“Hey, kid, I’ll be back to take Morgan to school. Make sure she’s ready,” Happy says to him, closing the door behind him - leaving Peter to his thoughts again. 

The door opens again, Pepper walks in and stops in front of Peter. She bends over and brushes her lips across his forehead.

“We’ll fix this. Don’t do anything before I get back,” she mutters into his skin. 

Peter keeps his eyes closed until he’s sure that they’re gone before sitting upright. He curls his fist into the blanket -  _ stupid, stupid, stupid _ \- and his stomach rumbles. Throwing his legs over the side of the couch and pushes himself up -  _ he’s already dead or he will die and it’s your fault. _

The kitchen feels dead in the silence of the house - without the warm aroma of Pepper’s cooking or Harley’s laugh as the smoke detector blares. Peter wonders how he’s both starving and nauseous as he pours himself a bowl of Lucky Charms. He leaves the box of out for when Morgan wakes up. 

She wouldn’t be getting up for at least another two hours. It’s enough time for Peter to wallow in self hatred or to get to Rhodey’s, gather any information with all of the resources he has access to. Maybe Peter can help and they can get Harley back by dinner. 

The spoon is halfway to his mouth as he stares at the front door. He’s so close to leaving - it would be too easy. 

But that’s what got him into this mess. Reckless impulsivity and not listening to Pepper. So Peter clenches his jaw and leans back in his chair, eyes unfocusing as he zones out. 

His cereal’s gone soggy when he comes back to reality, and he dumps it down the garbage disposal. The clock hanging on the wall catches Peter’s eye - it reads  _ seven o’clock _ . Peter needs to stay in the present if he’s going to be any help. 

Peter shakes away the heavy weight of the past night and heads down the hallway for Morgan’s room. Rubbing the weariness his eyes, he knocks lightly on the door before opening. It’s not a fake smile he puts on when their eyes meet - her head poking out just barely above her pile of blankets. 

“Come on,” Peter says gently. “Time to get up.” 

Morgan lets out a soft groan but sits up nonetheless. Peter gives a breathy laugh, holding open the door as she slowly stumbles out of bed. 

It’s easy to keep his mind distracted as he twirls around the kitchen to make Morgan’s breakfast. Pouring her a glass of apple juice and fixing up some toast, Peter thoughtlessly replies to her retelling of a dream she had. Wordlessly, he takes her breakfast and settles it onto the coffee table in the lounge. 

“Mommy doesn’t let me eat there,” Morgan notes from where she sits at the dining table. “She thinks I’ll make a mess.” 

“Well,” Peter retorts, “do you see her anywhere?” 

Morgan giggles as she moves to sit at the table. Peter settles next to her, switching the TV on and lets himself be immersed in the cartoons. He catches his mind slipping away multiple times, struggling to drag it back to the present - to  _ his  _ present. It’s only been a few hours since he last saw Harley. What’s the worst that could happen in that time? 

Then Peter remembers how it only took approximately five interactions with Quentin Beck for Peter to almost cost himself and all his classmates their lives. Peter closes his eyes in a prolonged blink, forcing his brain off before opening them again - only to find Morgan standing before him. 

“Where’s Harley?” she asks, unblinking. 

“Um, he’s - he is.” Peter closes his mouth, unable to find the right words. Should he just lie, leave it up to Pepper or Happy to explain? As if they didn’t already have enough problems to deal with. “Okay, some bad men, let's say, took Harley.”

“Where?” 

“We will figure that out. But right now, we don’t know, okay?” 

“But you’ll get him back, right?” Morgan says, her young wide eyes are open, completely unguarded and Peter sorely misses that childhood optimism. 

“Yeah, of course. He’ll be back.” 

-

Happy comes to take Morgan to school, giving Peter a tight smile while she waves happily. Peter waves back from the porch before finding the energy to retreat to his room.

His desk is still covered with Harley’s study notes and lined with empty Red Bull cans. There’s still a couple of full cans resting on his bed and at first, Peter considers drinking them to give himself that high again. But he remembers how hard he crashed and decides to return them to Harley’s room. 

Peter stands in the threshold for too long, hand still on the doorknob as he can only stare. His eyes scan over the posters lining every inch of the walls, the glow-in-the-dark stars hung with Blu-Tack on the ceiling, the still open wardrobe door. Everything screams Harley, screams that the older boy has lived here for years despite it only being less than one. 

Peter makes for the wardrobe, blindly searches for the false back and smiles slightly when he finds it. It’s a small compartment, just large enough to fit the mini-fridge stacked almost completely with Red Bull. Peter wonders if he should throw out the whole thing - this is straying too close to an addiction for his comfort. 

Maybe he’ll talk to Harley about it when he gets back. 

Should he say  _ if  _ instead? At what point do missing people start being considered dead? 

When should Peter accept that his family is dwindling? Harley’s gone, Tony might never wake up, Peter’s a criminal. Soon enough, the Stark family will barely exist. Peter, himself, will barely exist if he loses Harley, after everything that has happened Peter survive any more grief. 

He can hardly remember his parents but those roles were filled by Ben and May. When Ben died, Peter didn’t think he would ever recover. But he did, only to lose Tony before he truly had him to begin with. The same with Harley. 

It’s him - it must be him. 

He’s poison - everyone around him dies or gets hurt. Because of him. Peter destroys everything he loves, everyone who dares to love him. His family will always be at risk and it’s all because of Peter. 

Distantly, some piece of him realises that he can’t breathe, that his chest is so tight that his rib cage might implode. But it stops nothing. 

It’s all Peter’s fault - Harley would be safe. He would be safe and at home and teasing Peter about anything he can. Ben would be alive, he would be taking May to dinner and giving Peter advice about his life love and school. Peter could have stopped Tony, keep him from making the ultimate sacrifice. His parents - his uncle - Tony - Harley - Peter destroyed it all. He ruined Liz and her family’s lives and sent her dad to jail. Peter ruined it all - he’s poison - he ruins everything -  _ he’s ruined _ . 

Peter is too broken, his pieces too sharp for anyone to touch without bleeding. Everything is his fault and he can’t breath - lungs too filled with poison - undeserving of oxygen. Harley’s going to die because of him, he’s going to be tortured and killed to get to Peter and it will shatter him beyond repair. Peter will not recover from this loss, not another. 

Peter comes back to himself at some point, laying on Harley’s bed as the panic attack leaves. He takes a couple of deep breaths, his cheeks stained with tears and his body feeling hollow. He’s on that delicate line where he thinks he might fall again. 

Two minutes pass and Peter’s still calming down but he doesn’t think another attack will come. He doesn’t know how to not panic when thinking about Harley, so he forces his attention away from him. 

Looking across Harley’s room for something to distract him, Peter remembers something. 

" _ Ned gave me this letter to give you the other day _ ," Harley had said.

Peter gets up slowly with his non-existent energy, searching for Harley’s bag. He finds it kicked under his bed and scrambles through the books and papers until he finds the letter. 

Peter stops breathing as soon as he sees Ned’s handwriting. 

_ Peter, _

_ Hey, I think this is kinda weird but I really need to talk to you. So I thought why not? Can’t hurt.  _

_ There’s been so much going on at school. First off, everyone here has your back. Now, they know how you saved the Decathlon team in Washington and our class in Europe. So even the teachers are supporting you. Mr Harrington stopped class a few weeks ago and went on a whole rant about how unfairly you’re being prosecuted. He was way too into it though.  _

_ Second, MJ’s started a protest - I wish I was kidding. #FreeSpiderMan has been trending on Twitter for months now all because of her. She went around school collecting stories from anyone who’s had an interaction with Spider Man and gave it to the cops, demanding that they realise you’re innocent. It was incredible, so many people can forward to defend you. Like this girl in our English class, Harper I think. She was saying how she left her girlfriend’s house late at night after they had a fight and she was crying and scared. And then you came up to her and walked her home while telling stupid jokes to make her laugh. This guy was saying how you helped his little brother from some bullies and how he’s so grateful.  _

_ There’s hundreds of people just at school that you’ve helped. MJ has a whole stack of paper with all the stories, I’ll try to get a copy for you. Hopefully, I can get them to Harley by next week. It’s weird how alike you guys are. I didn’t notice it at first but when we found out he knew Tony Stark, it was so obvious. He’s literally a more handsome you.  _

_ (MJ’s making me say I’m kidding.) _

_ Harley’s a real cool guy, I’m mad you never introduced us before. I know you only met him after homecoming but still. MJ is actually in love, he knows about all the weird true crime facts and even taught her about some shit she didn’t know. I think they might be soulmates, seriously. He started talking about this messed up fake demon possession murder from New Zealand and MJ couldn’t speak for a whole minute.  _

_ I asked if she wanted to say anything but she thinks this is stupid because you’re gonna be back soon. I believe her but still, I needed to do this.  _

_ Harley didn’t tell us where you are but it’s probably lonely. So I hope this helps, at least a little bit. But you better be back by December cause the world was kinda put on hold during the Snap - I refuse to call it the Blip, that’s stupid - and so they’ll only just releasing the last Star Wars movie this year. And we have to see it together, whether we put you in a mask and sneak you into the theatre.  _

_ Anyway, I won’t kill any more trees with this letter. Just know I’ve got your back and so does practically everyone else in the world. I hope I see you soon. Love you, Pete, miss you. _

_ Ned.  _

A falling tear stains the paper, right over “ _ Love you _ ” and Peter sniffles. He reads it again and again until he’s memorised the entire letter by heart. He folds it, holds it to his chest and falls against Harley’s bed. He curls into a ball and closes his eyes. The pillow smells like Harley, the sheets smell like him, the blanket Peter pulls over his head does too. With a shaky breath, Peter slips off into sleep. 

He’s woken up a few hours later - swearing that he can feel Harley’s presence on the bed beside him - by the sound of the front door slamming. Peter bolts up, shaking away the groggy feeling of sleep deprivation. 

He jumps from the bed - heading down the stairs without a thought. Peter finds Rhodey in the kitchen, War Machine suit ditched by the front door and he’s leaning against the bench. He looks up when Peter enters. 

Peter can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s been in a fight - he’s worn out and on edge. 

Jumping to conclusions, Peter says, “Guessing you didn’t find him.” 

Rhodey shakes his head, looking at Peter with a dejected look. “Thought I had a lead, tracked his phone to this compound.” 

“Wait, did you go alone?” 

Rhodey shrugs. “Not enough time to call in anyone.” 

“What about me?” 

“Don’t start this - ”

“Why wouldn’t you call me?” Peter demands, which he regrets when he sees Rhodey’s face drop - tired understanding warping into annoyed anger. 

“ _ Because _ , Peter,” Rhodey hisses, “it’s bad enough that your face is all over the news again with that little stunt you pulled. But  _ Spider Man _ being seen again fighting with War Machine? The cops will be pounding on our door in a heartbeat.”

“I can be discreet, you should -” 

“Obviously, you can’t!” Rhodey yells. ”We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you could stay hidden.”

Peter shuts his mouth with an audible click, taking a small step backward. Rhodey sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose - all the fight leaving him. 

“Look, kid, I just - I promised Tony I’d keep you safe - all of you. Let the adults handle this one.”

“This is my mess, you have to let me help,” Peter says softly. 

“If Tony wakes up and I lost two of his kids, he’ll fucking kill me. I swear I’ll keep you updated but nothing more. You are not getting into the field.”

“I’m not a child. I’m strong, I can fight - you know I can.” 

“Peter, please,” Rhodey tries. “Just - just go to your room.”

“You’re not my dad,” Peter mutters, stalking back up the stairs anyway. 

He’s on the last step when Rhodey’s voice carries up. He must be on the phone, it’s on speaker and Peter realises it’s Sam Wilson. 

“I need your help. Got a missing person,” Rhodey says. 

Sam’s voice is muffled from the distance but Peter can hear well enough. “Seems a little below your pay grade, doesn’t it. We’re not cops.”

“Sam, listen, it’s one of Tony’s kids.”

Sam hesitates. “One of? How many did the damn man have?”

Peter settles on the top step, resting his chin on his crossed arms. 

“Technically only the one,” Rhodey explains. “His name’s Harley Keener.”

“What should we expect? Another spiderling or some boy genius making his own suit when we find him.” Sam chuckles. 

“No, nothing like that. He - well, he’s smarter than you and me combined but he’s not like that. Harley’s a normal teenager.”

“Surrogate son of Stark? Not possible,” Sam says. “But I get what you’re saying, Buck and I will do what we can.”

“Thanks, I owe you.”

“Nah, we all owe Tony. It’s the least I can do. I’ll call you if we find anything.”

“See you,” Rhodey says, hanging up. “Trust me, Peter - ” his voice travelling up the stairs where he knows Peter sits - “we’re all looking for Harley.”

“What can they do that I can’t?” Peter calls down. 

“Other than not being wanted by the cops, they’re more trained than you are.” 

_ You don’t understand. If I don’t help, if I don’t find him, I’ll never forgive myself.  _

“I’m tired, Rhodey. I’m gonna take a nap,” Peter says instead. Although it’s not a lie, he’s exhausted from the past twelve hours of an emotional rollercoaster. 

“That’s a good idea, kid. I’ll see you later.”

Rhodey stays in the kitchen for another hour. Peter knows this because he sits on the stairs until Rhodey dons the War Machine suit and leaves. 

Peter’s alone. Maybe it’s better this way. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Peter has barely breathed in the last three and a half months, barely eaten, barely slept. He’s not sure if he’s still alive anymore. When he does sleep - those few precious moments plagued that are nightmares - it’s in Harley’s bed. 

He stays there most days now. Morgan goes to school, Pepper goes to work, and Peter lays in bed. 

Happy comes over occasionally, mostly giving him letters from May and Ned and even MJ. Peter doesn’t read them. He can’t, not since the one from Ned that said, “ _ Where's Harley? He hasn’t been at school for ages _ .” Peter can’t bring himself to explain, again, the cost of his mistake. 

Rhodey makes it for dinner most nights but after the first month, he stops bringing news. He’s more patient with Peter now, answering every - if any - questions, explaining his process, his thoughts. It’s not that Peter’s given up on Harley. For the first two weeks, every night Peter was sneaking out his window. And for two weeks, Pepper caught him, sent him back to his room, and never mentioned it the next day. 

And Pepper - well, Pepper does her best not to mention Harley. With Stark Industries taking most of her energy and attention, she’s too tired to even humour Peter. 

“Honey,” she would say every time Peter brought him up, “not tonight, please.” 

Peter can’t help this growing sense of resentment that’s settling in his heart. 

Peter’s logged onto her Twitter one day - as not to draw attention to himself, again - scrolling through the hashtag  _ Harley Keener _ . It had gained popularity once his and Tony’s relationship was discovered.  _ Find Harley Stark _ is just as common now. Pepper has even endorsed the hashtag, resulting in the internet exploding. 

But now, as Peter mindlessly reads post after post, the tag is filled with nothing more than fact less theories. 

TnyStrks_btch:  _ hEaR mE OUT. Okay so,,, what if Harley Keener was an undercover SHIELD agent or something, right? AND he was sent to get close to Tony Stark and get information. Because why else would a billionaire superhero give a shit about some random child he found????? And now Tony’s dead, he’s on another assignment. Thoughts? _

That one manages to make Peter laugh. 

SendingSamWilsonMemesEveryday:  _ So Tony Stark “died”, then Peter Parker drops off the face of the Earth, and now the kid that Stark was mentoring is missing??? Idk,,,, seems suspicious to me.  _

“Died”? Peter shouldn’t be surprised that conspiracies are running around online. He just hopes that no one really believes it. 

capxironman:  _ what if Mysterio was right and Spider Man wanted to be the next Iron Man. So he’s willing to kill whoever he has to in order to get that. And that’s why no one’s found Harley Keener yet, Spider Man killed him because of his relationship to Tony Stark.  _

Peter clenches his fists - his phone crunching under his strength but he can’t bring himself to care about the shattered glass. There are one thousand likes and four hundred retweets. Do people really agree? They think that the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider Man is a cold-blooded killer?

How? 

“Hey, honey,” Pepper calls as she enters the house, dumping her purse on the dining table and slips off her heels. “How was your day?” 

From where he lays on the couch, Peter answers, “People think I killed Harley, so not that bad.” 

Pepper freezes. “They what?” She comes to the couch, Peter lifts his legs and she sits down. 

Peter shrugs casually. His emotions have become muted versions of the once intense ones, running their course quicker. “Apparently Beck made a solid argument against me and people believe it. Oh, and I need a new phone.” 

Pepper rests a hand on his ankle, rubbing small circles into his skin. She grimaces when he shows his broken screen - taking a moment before speaking again. 

“Well, Happy can get you a new one after dropping you at Ned’s on Monday.” 

Peter bolts up, mouth hanging open. “I - I can go?” 

Pepper smiles. “Yeah, we were thinking and you deserve a break,” she says. “The buzz has died down mostly, so it won’t be hard to sneak you into the city. And we organised it so Ned will be home alone so his parents can have deniability.”

“It - it won’t get them in trouble, will it?” 

“Everything’s been planned for, Rhodey will be on standby in case anything goes wrong,” she explains. “And the Leeds know the risks and still agreed.”

Peter grins widely, dropping his phone and diving for Pepper. She laughs, wrapping her arms around him tightly. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he mumbles into her shoulder. 

“It’ll only be a few hours though,” she says, pulling away. “And I want an update every thirty minutes, and if I have even just a bad feeling, I will pull you out.  _ And  _ \- ”

“Pepper, I don’t care how many rules you have. I’m just - I’m just so excited.” 

Pepper laughs again, her bright smile lighting up the dark bags forming under her eyes. Peter realises how much he’s missed seeing her smile, no one in the Stark family has much to be happy about. He can’t help but return it - for the first time in a while, he doesn’t have to force himself to ignore the bad. It leaves his mind naturally. 

Pepper reaches for the remote control and flips on the TV. She kicks her feet onto the coffee table as she finds a movie playing. 

“Long day?” Peter guesses. 

Pepper sighs. “Even when Tony made me CEO, he still had some say. Now, I have to make every decision, listen to  _ every  _ meeting. I just - miss his advice.” 

“Yeah, I get that. I feel like this would be so much easier if he was here.” 

Peter puts an arm behind his head and notes how Pepper can’t figure out if she wants to watch him or keep her attention on the TV. 

She hums her agreement. “So, what’re you cooking for dinner. I’m starving.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to cook since I almost burned the kitchen down,” Peter says. 

“It was hotdogs, Pete. How do you burn hotdogs?” 

Peter chuckles. “It’s not my fault. You left me unsupervised.”

“I thought Harley would’ve known better,” she says - quickly shutting her mouth when she realises what she’s said. 

Peter feels a dip in his mood. Harley’s name is so scarcely uttered these days - with no news of his whereabouts, it seems cruel to keep talking about him. 

“He did, he just wanted to see your reaction,” Peter says softly, adding louder, “You were freaking out.”

Pepper smacks his leg lightly. “ _ You  _ were freaking out. I was dealing with the charred meat and I had to go out to get pizza.” 

“It was cold, too.” 

“Don’t you dare complain. Anyway, there’s no time like the present to learn how to not burn everything.” 

Peter swings his legs over the edge of the couch, standing up and offers a hand down to Pepper. 

“What a gentleman,” Pepper says sarcastically, taking his hand. 

Still connected, Peter leads her to the kitchen. “Teach me, wise master, the ways of the chef.” 

Pepper rolls her eyes, ducking her head into the fridge. “I miss the days when it was Miss Potts - ” she stands up, placing a tray of ground beef on the bench - “you know, when you were respectful. We’ll start with burgers, it’ll be hard to mess them up.” 

“Is that a challenge?” Peter says first. “You’d be bored if I was still that nervous kid.” 

Moving around the cabinets to collect the various pieces and ingredients, Pepper makes a noise of disagreement. “Every once in a while wouldn’t hurt, would it?” 

Peter collects a large mixing bowl. “Okay, Miss Potts. Where do we start?” 

-

Pepper softens the evening chill with an outdoor heater as they stand by the barbecue. They’re overlooking the lake, watching the setting sun reflecting on the calm water. The hiss of the meat on the barbecue is the only sound. 

“Where is everyone tonight?” Peter asks, flipping the first patty and earning a proud smile from Pepper. 

“Well, Morgan’s having a sleepover at her friend’s place,” Pepper says, taking a sip of her wine. “Rhodey’s seeing Tony and Happy is…” she trails off. 

“You can tell me if he’s at May’s. It doesn’t matter to me.” 

Pepper shoots him a look. 

“Okay, it matters a little,” Peter says. “But still, he makes her happy, so I’m okay with it.” 

“That - that’s very mature, Pete. When I was your age, I hated my step-mom."

Peter takes a drink from his soda. “I didn’t know your parents were divorced,” he says. “You don’t talk about them much.”

Pepper shrugs, turning her head to watch as a gust of wind sends leaves sprinkling onto the lawn. “Well, unlike the rest of this messed up house, I have a decent relationship with them.” 

“Wow, imagine not having trauma.” 

“It’s quite nice,” she says, taking a long sip of wine. 

Peter laughs, happy that Pepper’s finally on board with his sense of humour - choosing to embrace it rather than scold him. She flicks her light hair over her shoulder as she makes her way for the front door. 

“I’ll get started on the toppings. I’m trusting you - ” she points to the barbecue - “to not burn anything. Including yourself.” 

Peter gives a salute with the spatula. With a chuckle and an eye roll, Pepper leaves him. He turns back to his cooking, shifting closer to the heater when a particularly cold breeze passes. 

He thinks that he could easily put a few more of the heaters into the shed so he could work in warmth. Peter almost laughs at himself for that thought. It’s not like he even goes in there much anymore. The lab was a place for him and Harley, where nothing else mattered except for the two of them. 

Now, it’s just a painful reminder. 

He tried being in there, deciding that he’ll finish Harley’s robotics project. Rhodey came to check on him an hour later and found Peter with puffy, tear-stained cheeks. That was the last time Peter had even thought about going inside. The lab sits there now, collecting dust, everything inside going to waste.

“Peter, honey.” 

Pepper’s voice snaps Peter’s attention back onto the barbecue, and the charred patties beyond saving. 

Peter can only stare at his mistake. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” Pepper comes to his side, taking the spatula from his hanging hand and turns the barbecue off. “This is why we made extra mixture.” 

She laughs, though it barely breaks through to Peter. Why does he ruin  _ everything _ ? 

“Peter? You starting to scare me a little,” Pepper says, resting her free hand on Peter’s cheek, forcing him to look at her. 

“I’m sorry. I just - I was thinking that, um, whenever I needed to find H - to find Harley I would just instantly go to the lab because I knew he loved it in there. But now. Now, it’s just empty and no one can find him and I know that everyone’s trying to pretend like this isn’t happening. But it is and I can’t do this any - ”

“Peter, honey, just breathe. It’s okay, I’m here,” Pepper says. She takes Peter’s hand and leads him to the porch. They sit in the chairs laid out, knees bumping against each other. 

“You haven’t said his name in months,” Peter mutters. 

Pepper sighs loudly, struggling to find the right words. “Harley was -  _ is  _ \- he’s my son as much as you are. You know, as soon as Tony and I were finished with the Mandarin and Extremis, he flew me out to Tennessee and introduced me to Harley. I - I loved him right away.”

Peter smiles with her, focusing on her words to relax himself. 

She continues, “He came to stay with us one summer about two years after. I - I realised then that I would do anything to protect that kid. He’s smart and witty. And it kills me that I can’t hug him every night or hear his laughter.”

“If you love him so much, why don’t you talk about him anymore?”

“Because saying his name feels like eating glass,” she says bluntly. “Thinking about how I lost my husband and my son in less than one year makes me want to curl into my bed and never leave.”

“There’s room in mine.” Peter feels tears threaten to fall, Pepper’s watery eyes aren’t helping his resolve. “You don't have to be strong all the time, you’re allowed to break if you need to.” 

Pepper sniffles, wiping away a tear. “I have a company and a family to run.”

“And they’ll survive one day if you need to hide from the world.”

She takes a deep breath as she collects herself. “Aren’t we just a bunch of messed up people? Okay, okay - ” she takes another breath - “well, I’m still hungry and there’s still some beef left in the fridge. How about we make some more patties and I’ll cook?” 

“That’s a good idea.” 

-

Peter wakes up at two PM on Monday afternoon to Happy banging on the door. 

“Get up,” he says. “We leave in thirty.” 

Peter groans, rolling over and almost lets himself fall asleep again before his memory catches up. He had forced himself to finally go to bed at six AM because he had forgotten about his visit to Ned’s today. 

He doesn’t even register the fact that he’s slept in Harley’s bed again as he bolts for his own bedroom. 

Peter’s dressed, inhaled half of Happy’s sandwich, and waiting in the car ten minutes later. Happy takes his time, taking a moment to admire what the end of fall has transformed the lawn into - just to annoy Peter. Finally, he climbs into the driver's seat, making small, insignificant changes to his seat position, the rearview mirror, and the radio. 

“Happy, I swear to God,” Peter says. “I will scream. And it will be loud and annoying if you do not start driving right now.” 

Happy laughs, shaking his head but starts the car and pulls out of the driveway without another delay. 

“You know,” Happy says as he drives, “a thank you would be nice.” 

“I’ve said thank you after you literally poured hot soup onto my lap. I can forget to say it every now and again.” 

“Whatever you say, kid.” 

From there, Peter drones out Happy’s rambling - occasionally picking up May’s name but nothing enough to completely draw him in. He’s far too excited, practically bouncing with energy, to think about anything else. 

He’s going to see Ned. His best friend for years, the one person who’s always known Peter better than he knows himself. An extension to himself - but still a complete person that Peter is in awe of. He’s compassionate and he always knew how to make Peter laugh - or when to sit in silence. 

Ned’s always been there for Peter. And these last few months Peter’s needed him more than ever. 

“You know you’re seeing Ned, not MJ,” Happy says. 

“What?” 

“You’ve got some look in your eyes. I’m starting to think you’ve been in love with him this whole time,” he teases. 

Peter rolls his eyes, kicking his feet onto the dashboard. “You’re hilarious.” 

“I know.” 

Happy falls back into his rambling, talking about work and everything Rhodey’s been up to since he hasn’t visited for a while. Peter half pays attention this time, trying to keep whatever look Happy had seen from his face. 

Something about his words strikes deep in Peter. It makes sense that Happy would assume that he would rather see MJ - they just started dating before everything went down. So why does Peter feel the need to tell Happy how wrong he is? That while he definitely has thought about her often, it’s not nearly to the extent of Ned and now Harley. 

Is not that Peter doesn’t care about her anymore but - but he doesn’t think it’s to the same degree. He wonders if he just needs to see her again to reignite their spark. But with Ned, Peter thinks - he knows that no distance, no time can ever lessen what he feels. 

Maybe MJ was just a crush, like how Liz was. It didn’t feel like it then, but now, Peter’s starting to wonder. But instead of dwelling on that thought, he tucks it away in his mind. He’d rather wait to air this all out with Ned. 

As they near the city, Peter can see how close winter truly is. The barren trees and gloomy sky reminding him how quickly time has passed. The one year anniversary of Tony’s Sacrifice is approaching, far too quickly for Peter’s liking. 

Happy and Peter pass into the city’s limits - Peter flips his hood up and keeps his head down. It’s a quick drive to Ned’s house, Happy takes all the back streets with practised ease. 

“Yeah, I’ve got a whole escape route planned in case shit goes down,” Happy says after Peter questions it. “Had to figure out the quickest way in and out.” 

Peter nods along, perking up a bit when Happy pulls over. 

“Ned lives a block away,” he comments.

“Well yeah, but a car that can be traced back to me parking in front of Peter Parker’s known best friend’s house seems a little suspicious. Doesn’t it?” 

“Okay fair point.” 

“Remember, Pepper wants updates every hour. I’ll pick you up from here at six and if  _ anything  _ seems wrong, I have every right to get you earlier,” Happy explains. “Understand?” 

Peter replies, “Yes, yes, and yes. You’ve said this a million times and I still understand.” 

“Keep that phone on, at all times.” 

Peter pulls said phone from his pocket. It’s tiny, a burner phone that can only text and call with Pepper’s, Happy’s, and Rhodey’s numbers in it. Peter shows Happy the lit screen. 

“Can I go?” Peter asks, already piling out from the car. 

“Make sure - ”

Peter closes the door before Happy can finishes, starting his trek down the road. Happy pulls away after what Peter assumes is a moment to curse the boy out. 

He hurries down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. He doesn’t need to think about where he’s going, having walked these streets with Ned hundreds of times. He stands in front of Ned’s front door, hand hovering as he goes to knock. He’s shaking, a bubbling sense of excitement and nerves making him sick.

Why can’t he just knock? He’s wanted this for so long, so why is he hesitating?

Peter doesn’t have time to digest that thought as the door is whipped open and Ned’s face comes into view. And then all Peter can do is stare at him. 

“Hey,” Ned says softly, mouth hanging open in disbelief. 

“Hey,” he echoes, slipping off his hood. 

Ned moves to the side, letting Peter in. Standing in the lounge that he’s spent countless hours in, Peter has never felt more like a stranger. This should be comforting, this was his second home and now, it’s like the reveal of his secret identity has stripped away any identity he once had. 

Ned pulls him in for a bone-crushing hug before he can think too much about it. 

“I missed you,” Ned mutters against Peter’s shoulder, tightening his hold. 

Peter reminds himself not to put all of his strength into the hug, trying to squeeze back with the same amount of pressure. “Yeah, I missed you too. I really missed you.”

Ned pulls back and clears his throat. “Um - Happy - he told me to keep you in my room. There’s… less windows, I guess.”

Peter gives a breathy laugh. “Yeah, that makes sense. Let’s go.”

Ned leads him down the hallway, the path familiar to Peter and yet he finds himself staring at every detail. The photographs, the awards and certificates hanging on the wall - everything that Peter’s come to know over the years seems brand new. 

“Does this seem as weird to you as it does to me?” Ned asks as they enter his room. Ned flops onto his bed while Peter closes the door and stands against it. 

“God, yes, I didn’t want to be the one to say it.” 

The boys laugh, the awkwardness lifting from the air. 

“What’s wrong with us?” Ned says. 

“You know the list is way too long,” Peter replies. He finds a Lego replica sitting on Ned’s set of drawers by the door - the Millennium Falcon finding its way to his hands as he inspects it. Peter remembers how they had pieced it together, high on sugar and hysterical with laughter. 

“How’s everything going at school?” Peter asks. 

Ned shoots him a look. “I - I’ve been sending letters. Did Happy not give them to you?”

_ Shit _ . “Oh, yeah - um - I’m sorry, I - I tried. It’s just, I haven’t been… able to talk about him. And you were asking questions so I just - didn’t.” 

“Right, right, I’m sorry. Yeah, I should’ve realised.” Ned clears his throat awkwardly, looking anywhere but at Peter. “Promise I won’t mention him but uh - MJ’s gonna be annoyed about that.”

“Then don’t tell her,” Peter says. 

Ned scoffs. “Like I can lie to that girl. I’ll tell her my darkest secret is she asked me to.”

“Speaking of MJ, I was wondering since it’s been so long, does she - does she still, y’know…” Peter trails off. 

Ned replies, “Like you? Last time I checked she did but it’s kinda hard to tell what she’s feeling. She’s not taking all this - ” he makes a few wild hand gestures - “that well.”

“I mean, we did leave things kind of - weird between us.”

Ned laughs. “That’s an understatement,” he says. “But still, I don’t think there’s anything that could make her stop liking you.”

“Oh.” Peter shifts his weight on his feet, leaning against the door. 

“Why do you sound disappointed?” Ned eyes him carefully. “Pete, come on, what’s going on?”

“I - shit.” Peter drags a hand down his face, finding himself unable to brush Ned off. “I don’t know. I was thinking that maybe, I’m not sure if I’m still all that… into her.”

To his credit, Ned keeps his surprise well masked, taking a moment to think. “Oh, well, uh - I mean, it’s okay that you feel like that. Um, MJ might be a little upset but - ”

“Shit, don’t tell her,” Peter rushes. “I - I want to tell her myself. It wouldn’t be fair to her and it gives me more time to think about all this and - ”

Ned puts up his hands, stopping Peter before his ramble can really start. He’s used to dealing with all this and it lets them fall back into normalcy. 

“Okay, well,” Ned starts, “if you don’t like MJ anymore, who do you like?” 

“What? No one.”

Ned scoffs. “Come on, Peter, you can’t go a month without having a crush. And, you’ve got that look in your eyes.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” he mutters. 

“So, who is she?” 

“No one. Ned, I haven’t seen anyone new for like five months,” Peter says. 

“Yeah, I know that but -  _ oh _ , oh my god. Peter, really? That - that makes a lot of sense actually.

Peter is completely baffled. “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” 

“Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out. Like I said, you can’t go a day without a crush.”

“You said a month,” Peter corrects. “And to be fair, you fall in love whenever someone opens the door for you.” 

“Fair point, Parker.” 

“Come on,” Peter says. “Let’s not spend the whole time talking about our failing love lives.” 

“We can watch a movie if you want. You’ve missed a bunch of releases,” Ned says. 

Peter smiles, settling next to Ned as he reaches for his laptop. As Peter ruffles with the pillows, Ned turns to him - a teasing smile on his lips. 

“Since you’re wanted for murder and all, piracy shouldn’t be a problem,” he quips. 

Peter cackles out a laugh. “Oh, you got jokes now? When did you become funny?” 

“I’ve always been funny.” 

“Sure thing.” 

-

Peter leans against Ned, practically cuddling him as the credits to the second movie roll. Peter doesn’t bother pushing himself up. 

“So that was shit,” he says. 

Ned chuckles, shaking Peter. “Yeah, well I paid eleven bucks to see it so I expect you to suffer as I did.” 

“What time is it?” Peter asks, stretching his legs out. 

“Five - fifty.” 

Peter groans, sitting upright. He looks back at Ned. “Already? Shit, Happy’s getting me at six.” 

Ned shuts his laptop, putting it to the side and slowly moves off his bed. Rolling his shoulders back, stiff from sitting for so long, he moves for the door. 

“He’ll get annoyed if you’re even a minute late,” Ned says, Peter nods along. “You should get going.” 

“Kicking me out so soon.” 

“Yes, you’re annoying. Get out.”

Peter smiles, pushing himself to the edge of the bed. There’s a heavy weight in his chest now, desperately wishing he had more time. Something longer to hold onto before going back into isolation. 

Ned offers down a hand, pulling Peter up into their overly intricate handshake. It ends with Peter pulling Ned into a hug. 

“We need to do this again,” Ned says. 

Peter pulls back, taking a moment to study Ned’s face. 

“Maybe in a few months when Pepper’s sick of me again,” he answers. 

Peter takes the lead this time, dragging a hand over the hallway walls - hoping that something will pull him back. They reach the front door with deep sadness, Peter hesitating. 

I don't know how I'm doing this,” Peter admits, voice low as he faces away from Ned. “It’s too hard.”

Ned hesitates. “You’re the strongest person I know, Peter. You’re doing this because there’s no other option.” 

“I can’t keep living like this.” 

“It’ll be over soon,” Ned says, sounding so sure of himself. “Things will be better before you know it.” 

As quickly as he falls apart, Peter collects himself. He turns around and throws himself into Ned’s arms again - pulling away when he feels tears threatening to fall. 

Ned whips at his eyes. “Okay, hurry up and leave before I keep you here.” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Peter’s voice shakes slightly. 

It takes all his self-control to not look back as he leaves. The door closing behind him echoes in his hollow chest - blocking him off from his past life once again. The little taste is not enough to satisfy him for long, Peter finding himself already missing Ned. 

He throws his hood up once again and sets off for the meeting point. Peter’s barely a few meters away when the hair on the back of his neck raises, a chill going down his spine. 

He looks around, seeing nothing but the empty street. That’s when he hears it - screams reverberating from the opposite direction of where Happy dropped him off. It’s not a choice to Peter, not conscious thought needed before he goes running after the sounds. 

Peter finds a field not far from Ned’s house, stalls and decorations spanning a small portion of the grass. Some kind of festival, Peter guesses. 

And flying above it all is a person, dressed in green armour from head to toe, on top a board hovering in the air. 

People are sent running as the green man shoots blasts of electricity through his gauntlets, setting stalls and grass on fire. Peter takes a moment to assess the situation, he can't see anyone injured. But he has to stop him before he can hurt anyone. 

Peter runs, leaping through the air with all his strength. He tackles the green man mid-air, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Peter skids to a stop, dirt staining his clothes but he doesn’t notice. He jumps to his feet as the green man does. 

Up close, Peter can see the mask the man wears. The design is inhuman but Peter has no time to think about it before a fist is coming for his face. Peter dodges, noting how quickly the man moved. 

“I - uh - like the outfit,” Peter says, backflipping to put distance between them. “Where’d you get it?” 

The green man says nothing, continuing his attack. Fists and shots of electricity come for Peter, and he barely has enough time to dodge it all. He’s even rustier than the last fight he was in - Harley’s kidnapping - and even his spider-sense feels slower. 

“Not very talkative, are you?” Peter’s fist collides with the mask, pain rippling through his hand. “Most villains have - ” he leans back to dodge a blow - “some long monologue prepared.”

“Not this time, Spider Man,” the green man hisses, voice obscured from a modulation device. 

“So you’re a fan.”

Peter can’t even blink before there’s a hand around a throat - moving so quickly he doesn’t see it. The green man pulls him close, tightening his hold with enhanced strength. The man steps back onto his board and they float upwards. 

Peter’s kicking, trying to remove the man’s hand but he’s not strong enough. He can’t breathe and he’s trying not the panic - but his chest is tight and he can’t break free. They’re high in the air now, Peter’s legs dangling. 

“We’ll meet again, Spider Man,” the man says, lifting up his fingers - one by one, until he’s only holding Peter by his thumb and forefinger.

Then, Peter’s falling. 

Peter knows now that he never wants to fly, never wants to exist only in the air with nothing below him. He’s already sick of the weightless feeling as he falls. 

The ground catches up with him too quickly, knocking all the wind from his lungs. His vision blurs and he can see a green shape fly away. 

Peter swears under his breath, all he can hear is ringing as air comes back to him. Before he can sit up, something's pulling him to his feet. 

It’s a young guy, green eyes wild as he says something indistinct. There’s soot on his cheek and his grip on Peter doesn’t loosen. 

“ - to go. Now,” he yells, Peter’s hearing coming back despite the underlying ringing tone. “Spider Man, come on. Go.” 

He pushes Peter and in all the confusion, Peter turns and runs. He hears the sirens barely a heartbeat later, understanding what the guy was doing. If the cops show up, he doubts Eleanor will be there again to save him. Peter knows he has to move, it’s still daylight and he’s out in the open. He stands no chance of escaping and he refuses to fight his way out. 

“Go!” the man shouts even as Peter sprints away. 

Peter wishes he could stay behind and help with the cleanup, alert the police to the flying green man. But he won’t lose everything he’s worked so hard to keep. 

He’s on the other side of the field, sirens just behind him. The suburban streets offer no protection but Peter doesn’t stop moving. 

He wonders if the cops are even aware of his presence. He doesn’t chance a look behind him but he thinks they’re too preoccupied with the festival to notice him. Peter doesn’t slow down, just in case. 

After taking a moment to orient himself, Peter takes a long diversion to avoid the field. He sees Happy’s car - only ten minutes late - and sprints the remaining hundred or two meters. Happy’s pulling away before Peter even closes the door. 

“I saw the cops drive past. What happened? Were you in a fight? Why can’t you ever do what you’re told?” Happy rushes. 

Peter’s out of breath, throwing his head against the headrest as he forces deep inhales before he can answer. 

“There was an attack, yes, and you never said I couldn’t.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Peter. This is serious.”

“ _ I know that _ ,” he snaps. “I couldn’t just walk away.”

“Neither could Tony.” 

“Don’t bring him into this,” Peter says - unsure whether it’s a plea or a demand. 

Happy keeps his eyes on the road, hands clenched around the steering wheel. “I don’t know how else to make you understand how delicate your situation is.”

“Happy, I know, okay?” Peter says. “I get it - but I’d rather get arrested than let innocent people get hurt.” 

Happy sighs deeply. “And what about us? Huh? Tony’s in a coma, Harley’s missing, and if you get arrested, it’ll break us.”

Peter doesn’t know how to respond to that. As much as he understands where Happy’s coming from - the last thing he wants is to hurt his family - Peter still believes that he’s right. If he had simply ignored the screams, walked past the destruction and someone had gotten hurt or worse, he’d never forgive himself. What kind of hero would he be? 

Happy drives quickly, through the same route as before and Peter can’t bring himself to break the silence. 

It’s only when they’re a few minutes from home that Happy speaks again. 

“Morgan’s home. Don’t let her see your neck.” 

Peter pulls down the sun visor, looking in the mirror to see the bruises circling his neck in clear handprints that have already formed. He sighs, his advanced healing makes every little mark develop faster than they should. 

“That guy’s a threat,” Peter says bluntly. “Someone needs to stop him.”

“And there’s plenty of other people that can.”

Peter stays silent until they pull into the driveway - his heartbeat rapidly increasing when he sees who’s waiting for him. 

The car hasn’t stopped but he’s already out, running across the lawn and into May’s outstretched arms. He folds into her, the world fading away as she holds him. 

“Wh - what are you doing here?” he asks, still holding onto her as she pulls away - as if she’d fade away if he let go. 

She smiles sadly, cupping his face. “We wanted to surprise you. I thought that - that after seeing Ned, we could have dinner but Happy - he called and - ”

Pepper, previously unseen by Peter, comes up next to May - placing a gentle hand on her back. “We agreed it isn’t a good idea if she stays. I’m sorry, honey.” 

Peter nods, his voice leaving him. May gives him a kiss on the forehead, lips hovering over his skin as she forces herself to leave. He holds onto her hand until he can’t reach her anymore. Pepper comes to his side, bringing an arm around his shoulder and rests her head on him as they watch Happy and May leave. 

“I’m sorry,” Pepper whispers, May giving one last wave goodbye. 

“It’s not your fault,” he replies. 

“And it’s not yours. No one could have seen this coming.” 

Peter stays frozen in place until Happy drives away, Pepper holding him the whole time. 

“How long does it take for you to heal usually?” Pepper asks. 

Peter brings a hand to trace over the bruises on his neck - they ache under his touch but he doesn’t stop. He feels Pepper shiver next to him. 

“A few hours, maybe,” he says. 

“Okay, there’s some concealer in my room. Put it on then come down for dinner.” 

Pepper leaves him, her vanishing warmth lets the crisp air send a chill down his spine. Peter looks back at the house, then to the side where he can see an open window. It’s to his bedroom. Since he can’t let Morgan see him, Peter does the only thing he can do - he climbs the side of the house. 

Rolling into his room, Peter brushes himself off and heads for Pepper’s room. He can hear Morgan talking downstairs so he keeps his footsteps silent. It seems strange to enter her room, like a violation of her privacy. 

Peter scans the room, her bed is pristinely made - though he can tell that only one side is slept on. She won’t take Tony’s side, he realises. 

He tries not to take into much more details that might make his heart feel like it’s breaking in half. He passes a large set of drawers and sees a picture frame sitting on top. It makes Peter freeze - it’s him, Morgan, and Harley together, playing in the yard. Peter doesn’t even remember it being taken. 

Peter keeps moving, slipping into the bathroom. He finds Pepper’s makeup bag, reads every label until he finds the concealer and roughly applies it to his already purple neck. 

He tries not to meet his reflection’s eyes. 

-

** One Month Later **

Peter sits on the couch, one hand around Morgan and the other clutching the remote so tightly, he hears a crack. The comforting weight of his web-shooters on his wrists - he hasn’t taken them off since the festival - keeps him grounded. Even as he watches Pepper and Rhodey at their press conference. 

“My husband worked closely with Spider Man,” Pepper says, her hands clenched around the podium holding half a dozen microphones. “Which allowed me to gain a kind of relationship with him. Even after only a few months of them working together, I know for a fact that he will never be capable of what Quentin Beck has accused him of.” 

Rhodey steps forward. “As we have stated before, Beck lied to and manipulated the public. But who would believe a man only known for a few days over the friendly neighbourhood hero?”

“Go, Rhodes,” Morgan says - she giggles to herself. 

“Go, Rhodes,” Peter mutters. He can’t share her lighthearted nature - this press conference can be what makes or breaks the movement for Peter’s freedom. 

Everything has come to a standstill, they’re no closer to proving his innocence but he’s still yet to be caught. 

“Why are you speaking up again? Why now?” a reporter asks from the audience. 

“Because we are still letting a guilty man accuse an innocent teenager with no evidence,” Pepper says - almost snaps - voice firm and bordering angry. 

The corner of Peter’s mouth twitches up at seeing Pepper defend him so strongly. Even if this goes nowhere, it helps to know just how willing to fight for him she is. 

“Do you know Peter Parker’s location?” another reporter asks. 

“We’ve stated many times before that no, we do not,” Rhodey explains. “We just want to fight for his freedom.” 

From beside Peter, Morgan piped up, “Can you get me a drink?” 

Peter sighs, keeping his attention on the screen. “You can get your own.”

“But I don’t want to.” 

“That sucks.”

Morgan grumbles, leaving Peter’s side and goes for the kitchen. Distantly, he tells himself to apologise for being rude but he’s still too focused on Pepper and Rhodey. 

“What would Quentin Beck gain from framing Spider Man?” someone questions. “He’s dead.” 

Pepper clenches her jaw, taking a controlled breath. “He wanted to - ”

Peter whips his head around, the hairs down his neck standing up. Panic creeps into his chest, his heart pounding. 

“ _ Morgan _ ,” he yells, leaping over the back of the couch. “Morgan, come here - ”

As Peter reaches the kitchen, the window shatters - glass goes flying across the room, right into where Morgan is standing by the sink. Peter acts without thinking, firing his web-shooters and yanks her to him. Peter takes a breath, scanning the room - spider senses overwhelming. His eyes land on what caused the window to break. 

A small device sits in the middle of the kitchen, a blinking light screaming danger. His webs bring it to his hand and he throws it back through the missing glass. 

It explodes less than a heartbeat later, shaking the walls of the house. Peter covers Morgan with his body until he’s sure it’s over. 

He pulls back, seeing Morgan cheek covered in crimson blood - her skin cut open. The panic hasn’t vanished yet and Peter’s desperately searching for the source. 

It’s then that Peter turns around - finding the front door being blown off the hinges. 

Peter pushes Morgan away. “Hide,” he orders. 

Morgan slips under the table, Peter moves to stand in front of her. 

As dramatic as villains come, the green man stalks through the door. Peter tenses, readying his web-shooters. 

Silently, the man walks forward - tilting his head in a challenging manner. The mask seems to mock him. 

Peter’s mind is racing. How did he find this place? What does he want? He has to keep Morgan safe - he can’t do this here, with her so close. He needs to call Rhodey, he needs -

Peter can’t keep thinking. He scarcely misses a punch aimed for his head, he throws his own back but it’s caught by the man’s forearm. Peter ducks another blow, and another and another - unable to find the time to fight back. Peter doesn’t realise that he’s being pushed back until he hits the table - Morgan squealing. 

It sends a wave of determination through Peter. He catches the next punch and kicks the man square in the abdomen. He stumbles back and Peter takes the opportunity to web his feet to the floor. 

The man looks down, looking back at Peter and he sees there’s now a smirk on the mask. The man lifts one foot, ripping himself from the webbing and then the next foot. 

“That all you got?” the man jabs. 

“Uh, I don’t know. Is it enough to make you stop?” Peter says with a shrug. 

It’s pure instinct that Peter uses now, trusting it completely. He sees the man start to move, Peter’s wrist flies out - his web connecting with the wood just above where the door used to be. Peter pulls, he goes flying and his feet collide with the man’s chest. 

Peter lands just in front of the door, spinning around to find the man as he stands. He seems unfazed. 

“Can you please stay down,” Peter says. He’s not used to fighting anymore and even with his web-shooters, the confined space limits him. 

“You first.” 

As Peter readies himself for another attack, the man does something Peter didn’t see coming. The man turns, takes a few running steps, and dives under the table. 

Peter could throw up when the man rises again - his gloved hand wrapped tightly around Morgan’s throat, dangling her in the air like she weighs nothing. 

Peter raises his hands in surrender immediately. He looks to Morgan, tears streaming down her cheeks and blood staining her skin. 

“Peter,” she chokes, clawing at the man’s hand. “Help me, please. I - ”

The man tightens his grip. “None of that now.”

Peter is on the verge of crying, he can’t let Morgan get hurt, he can’t. “You don’t have to do this,” he begs. “What do you want?” 

The man shakes Morgan, humming in contemplation. He spins her to face him before turning her back to Peter. Morgan’s eyes are half-closed, her lips starting to be tinged with blue. 

“Well, not her,” the man says. 

Morgan is thrown across the room like a sack. Peter’s breath is caught in his throat and his hands move rapidly. She lands on the small web he creates, bouncing on the material instead of slamming into the wall. She rolls to a stop on the floor. 

Peter’s spider-sense is too slow while he’s distracted. The man is in front of him before Peter can react - and his knee comes up to meet Peter’s skull. 

He’s out without a struggle. 

-

Pepper’s exhausted when she comes home. But there’s nothing like shock-induced adrenaline pumping through her veins to wake her up.

Happy pulls up to the porch, eyes wild and wide when he sees the mess of the front door. Pepper is running inside as Rhodey drives up behind them. 

Her whole body trembles when she takes in the sight of her home. Glass and blood coat the kitchen, the window destroyed. Pepper covers her mouth, eyes scanning the place as panic fully takes over. 

“Morgan?” she cries out. “Peter?” 

A soft groan emits from the lounge. Pepper sees Peter’s web first, then her baby laying face down on the ground. The sound Pepper lets out is not human - more akin to a wounded animal. 

Pepper doesn’t process moving but she’s kneeling by Morgan’s side, shaking hands slowly rolling her over and into Pepper’s lap. Rhodey and Happy enter the house at some point, standing over her. 

Blood has dried down the side of Morgan’s face, a cut an inch long goes down her cheek. Her breaths are even but she shows no sign of consciousness. 

“Pep, is - is she…” Rhodey starts. 

Pepper sniffles, wiping away a tear. “She’s breathing. But I - I - what happened?” Pepper tucks a lock of hair behind Morgan’s ear, rubbing soft circles on the clear side of her face. 

“I’ll call Helen Cho, she - she can help,” Happy says, fishing out his phone with trembling hands. He steps back as he dials her number, 

“Peter?” Rhodey calls, moving to the base of the stairs. “Peter?” 

Pepper hears his voice become more distant as he hurries up the steps. Rhodey comes back down, leaving through the hole in the front of the house and searches the property. 

Happy comes back to Pepper’s side. “She’ll be a while but she’s on her way.” 

Pepper nods absentmindedly. If it weren’t for the blood and the noticeable bump on the back of her head, Pepper could swear that Morgan was simply sleeping. What she wouldn’t give for that to be true. 

Rhodey comes back - either a few minutes or a few years later - breathless and Pepper drags her attention onto him. 

“He’s gone,” he states, voice void of the pain that must be eating at him. “Peter’s gone.” 

“Fuck,” Happy mutters. “ _ Fuck _ . This - this can't be happening. What the fuck do we do?” 

It’s in that moment that every piece of Pepper’s heart turns to steel, iron streaming through her blood. She has lost too much, been forced through too much. But that ends today. 

The universe can’t take anymore from her. She won’t let it. First, her husband, and now both her sons? No. This time, Pepper will not go quietly. 

“We find my boy.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Peter wakes up to a rush of cold air entering his lungs, gasping at the stark feeling. Readjusting to consciousness, he takes a moment to gain his bearings. He can tell he’s on a flat surface, tight restraints over his ankles, wrists, and chest. The comforting weight of his web-shooters is gone, replaced with rough material. He can’t hear anything and when he cracks open his eyes, he’s met with pure darkness. 

As much as he’s trying not to panic, Peter can’t help but do so. He tries lifting his head but his whole body feels sluggish and worn. He’s had his fair share of concussions lately but he knows this isn’t that - he’s been drugged. 

Somehow that’s a comforting thought, his metabolism should burn through it in no time. So Peter takes a few deep breaths and closes his eyes. He can’t be sure much time has passed but eventually, gleaming lights were turned on - burning Peter’s eyes when he opened them. 

He squints. As the intense lights fade, he takes in his surroundings, noting nothing of importance. He’s in a circular room, barren white walls surround him and when he leans his head back, he can see a glint reflecting off glass. A viewing room, he assumes. 

A door, camouflage to blend in with the wall, opens. Two people slip in and close it before Peter can get a good look outside. The first person makes Peter’s head throb in response. The inhuman mask watching Peter with intent - Peter thinks he can see a dent in the cheek. He clenches his fist, proud of himself. 

The next man Peter doesn’t recognise. With slicked back, brown hair and age-worn into his skin, he seems to have a permanent smirk on his lips. He hovers by the door while the green man stalks forward. 

“What do you want?” Peter asks the second man, trying to resist the urge to squirm when the green man gets too close. 

“Oh, pay no mind to me,” the man says, voice as sharp as a blade. “I’m here to observe.” 

Before Peter can respond, the green man takes two short steps to reach the wall and finds a control panel. Peter’s starting to wonder how many things they can hide in the walls but the green man hits a button before he can finish the thought. From the ceiling, hidden pipes douse Peter head to toe in freezing cold water. 

It only lasts a few moments, Peter spits out the water that collects in his mouth. 

“Well, that was - ”

Peter’s stopped by the green man’s hand wrapping around his wrist. Bolts of electricity strike Peter, spreading over his damp skin. His mouth hangs open in a frozen scream as searing heat takes over his body. Blinding pain lodges deep in his bones, his muscles violently contracting as black dots start to cover his vision. 

If it weren’t for the fact he was laying down, Peter would’ve collapsed once the electricity left. He forces air into his aching lungs, heaving as he tries to force away the still resonating pain. 

“What do you want from - ”

This time, Peter screams - the sound tearing at his throat. Raging pain travels through his body, setting his skin on fire. His chest feels like it's going to burst - he can’t breathe - _ he cant breathe _ .

“That’ll do.” 

Peter can barely hear it but as the electricity fades again, his attention snaps to the man standing by the door. 

“Good enough show for you,” Peter hisses through clenched teeth. With the drug coursing through his veins, Peter doesn’t have to energy to be stoic - he’s pissed off.

“It was enlightening for sure,” the man says, eyeing Peter with a sense of hunger. 

Peter doesn’t say anything, testing his restraints although he already knew he wouldn’t be able to break free. A bead of water - or sweat - falls from his forehead. Peter shakes it away. 

“Anyway, this all must be very confusing for you,” the man says, stepping forward and stops just short of the puddle of water collecting under the table. “It does seem a bit rude to torture you without even telling you why.” 

“Yeah, dude, who raised you?” Peter says, but it’s lacking any bite. 

The man gives a small chuckle, amused for the wrong reasons. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Doctor Norman Osborn, a scientist here at AIM.” 

“AIM?” 

“Think of it like the off-brand HYDRA.” Osborn smiles, muttering, “God knows I do.” 

The name sparks a memory in Peter. “You made the Extremis serum.”

“Glad you know our work.” Osborn slowly paces to the other side of the table, taking the green man’s side. “After that mess with Killian, we regrouped and started working on this guy. You see, while HYDRA has been obsessed with Captain America since World War Two, they failed to see what was right in front of their faces. From the moment I first heard this Spider Man, I knew he would be the next big thing. I wanted in.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Peter interrupts. He looks to the man in the mask, saying, “So, he gets a monologue but you don’t? Doesn’t seem fair.” 

Osborn doesn’t so much as blink. “Keep his mouth shut, will you?” 

The green man arm reaches out in a blur, wrapping his hand around Peter’s throat - just tight enough to limit his air. 

“As I was saying,” Osborn continues. “I wanted to replicate your abilities - since there was no super-soldier serum already known to most of the world. So, a few trials later and I think I’ve got it down, right? And I inject it into myself.” 

Osborn rolls up his left sleeve, revealing his sickly green skin - an angry red mark where the needle had entered. The discolouration travels up and down his arm. And now that Peter was shown it, he can see how the edges reach Osborn’s chest. The colour’s starting to snake around his neck. 

“Not my best plan,” Osborn says, Peter realising how his eyes border on manic. “But it did gave me motivation. I was determined to perfect my work before this - ” he gestures to himself - “does whatever it’s gonna do. And it worked, five months ago I knew I had done it. Superhuman strength, agility, heightened senses, all of it. Minus the sticky thing, that’s just weird.”

Peter rolls his eyes, shuffling under the green man’s hold. Peter can’t say he’s wrong, for many reasons. 

“And I found the perfect candidate. So far, there’s no side effects but hey, only time with tell,” Osborn says with a shrug, patting the stoic man on the shoulder. “You like the mask? Yeah, came up with it myself. I was thinking of calling him the Green Goblin. Alliteration always seems to work, don’t you think, Peter Parker?” 

“Fuck you,” Peter wheezes out, earning more pressure around his throat in response. 

“Are you always such a chatterbox? Hm, I can fix that.” Osborn taps the other man’s mask. “I think it’s time for this to come off.” 

Green Goblin reaches up wordlessly - letting go of Peter’s throat - taking hold of his mask and what Peter sees is more painful than anything he’s felt before. His name escapes Peter’s lips. 

“Harley.” 

His once lively eyes - the sea always moving, always shining - stare coldly down at Peter, unblinking. His lips curl up in disgust, seeming so foreign on his young face, any reason to smile having been robbed from him. 

Harley has never looked so empty. 

“Weren’t expecting that, were you, Parker?” Osborn mocks. “Impressive, isn’t he? Doesn’t even know his own name but he’ll do anything he’s told.” 

Peter forgets how to breathe, his heart pounding out of his chest. It’s Harley - it’s always been  _ Harley _ , beneath that mask. How couldn’t Peter know? He should’ve been able to tell. He’s always been able to recognise Harley by feeling alone. 

No, no, no, this can’t - this can’t be happening - this can’t be  _ real _ . This has to be an illusion. It can’t be Harley. It just  _ can’t _ .

“Told you it would work,” Osborn says to Harley, touching him like they’re friends. Osborn looks to Peter, a sick, smug smile on his lips. “He’s my greatest achievement. Not only is my serum working perfectly but I was also able to try out AIM’s newest brainwashing techniques. Like I said, off-brand HYDRA.” 

“Harley,” Peter begs, speaking without thought. “Harley, please, you - you have to wake up. Please.” 

“Yeah, like that’ll work,” Osborn says. “He didn’t even hesitate to electrocute you but saying please will do the trick.” 

Peter feels an unfamiliar sense of rage fill his chest, mixing with the unbridled pain of seeing Harley like this. 

“Why? Why him?” Peter forces out. 

Osborn shrugs. “He’s a Stark. I thought of it as one last fuck you to Iron Man. And, well, when we picked up your face on our cameras, it was either you or him. And he’s just so much more  _ fun _ . Real feisty, had a wide vocabulary, too.” 

Peter shots up as far as the restraints let him, fighting through the hazy feeling of the drug. “Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t talk about him like you know him.” 

“But I do. These last four months, we’ve had plenty of time to get to close. Learned so many things he doesn’t even remember that he knows.” 

Osborn laughs, sending a crashing wave over Peter. It chills him to the bone, this man has no regard for what he’s done to this teenager - a kid that he’s torn apart. Peter looks to Harley, scanning his face for any trace of recognition, anything that says his Harley is still in there. 

“Don’t bother,” Osborn says, knowing that look. “I turned his brain to putty and moulded it to my design. HYDRA was always so primitive with their techniques. Nothing’s getting through to him, isn’t that right, my Goblin?”

Harley grunts. 

Osborn huffs, looking annoyed. “Not much of a conversationalist anymore. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers, right?” 

“What the fuck do you want with me?” Peter repeats.

“It’ll become clear soon enough. Until then, goodbye, Spider Man.” 

Peter almost feels like begging when Osborn and Harley turn and leave, wanting Harley - brainwashed or not - by his side. But he bites his tongue and watches as the door closes, the lights turning off directly after. 

A shiver runs across Peter’s wet skin, a soft dripping is the only thing he can hear. Where Harley’s hand had touched him still burns. It’s the only part of him that’s warm. 

He tests the restraints one last time but the material only seems tighter. Peter’s too tired, his mind too filled with anxiety to formulate any semblance of a plan. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to panic. There are no drones. 

-

Peter’s shivering. It feels like hours have passed and he’s still soaking wet - the  _ drip, drip, drip _ driving him insane.

His body feels fuzzy, he thinks it’s the drug. Something custom made to keep him docile and weak. Peter wonders if he can force his metabolism to process it quicker but he doesn’t think clenching his body is the way to do it. 

-

As Peter’s trying to force away sleep, the door opens again. Neither Osborn or Harley enter, but some kind of agent holding a syringe does. 

Peter struggles the best he can but it’s useless. The needle slides into his arm with a sharp sting and his body goes numb. He turns his head to the side, swearing that he can see someone in the viewing room before he slips into oblivion. 

-

The repeating pattern is something for Peter to hold onto - drugged, soaked, darkness. He counts four hours between each injection, always a different person. 

He’s cold, exhausted and starving - maybe a bit delirious. Hopeless for sure. 

All this because he decided to go to Germany with Mr Stark. 

-

Peter’s counting down to the next injection. 

“Three.”

He finds himself wishing for that sweet release into unconsciousness. 

“Two.”

Maybe this is how the amazing Spider Man goes, locked up by discount HYDRA. 

“One.”

The lights go on, burning Peter’s eyes but he readies himself for that familiar sting. Only, it never comes. When he adjusts to the light, he’s never wished more that he was about to be drugged. 

Before him stands Osborn, Harley - in his get-up only lacking the mask - guards the door. 

“What do you want,” Peter says, voice hoarse from misuse. 

Osborn rolls his eyes. “And here I thought a few days in isolation would do the trick.” 

“I’m not that easy.” Peter tried to sound confident but his teeth are chattering too violently. 

“Ah, so you think you’ll be a challenge? Yeah, so did the Goblin over here. A week with no sleep, no food only took - what was it?” Osborn looks at Harley like he knows the answer, everyone in the room knowing he doesn’t. “Half a day in the machine to rewire that brain. Stubborn little shit.” 

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

Osborn rolls his eyes. “He’s not programmed to care so why should you?” he says. 

“He’s still a person,” Peter snaps. “And I will be too, no matter what you do to me.”

Osborn goes to rest his hands on the table, scrunching his nose up when he feels how wet it still is. He wipes his hands and decides to pace around the table instead. 

“Not gonna lie, I’m impressed you figured it out. You don’t seem to have much going on up - ” he stops to tap Peter’s temple - “there.”

“More than you.”

“Hilarious. Anyway, it doesn’t matter if it takes hours or days. I’ll get you in the end. You’ll be my puppet in no time.” 

Peter shuffles under his restraints, moving his attention onto Harley - his gaze unblinking and refusing to meet Peter’s. 

“Harley, don’t let him do this,” Peter pleas, unafraid to show how desperate he is. “You know you don’t want to.” 

Osborn laughs loudly. “You  _ still  _ think all that begging is gonna work? How many times do I have to tell you it won’t. Fine, I’ll prove it.” Osborn moves, finds the hidden door with ease and opens it. “Have fun, boys.” 

With that, Osborn leaves. The door closes soundlessly, leaving Peter with only the sound of his racing heart. His breath echoes through the room, Harley standing silently. 

“Harley,” Peter starts, earning nothing but a blink. “Harley, look at me, please.” 

There’s a short glance but Harley keeps his gaze in front of him. 

“Come on, I know you’re still there. Please, you - you have to wake up.” Peter doesn’t hide the desperation in his voice, the tremor. 

There’s a tense beat and Harley is across the room - a hand wrapping around Peter’s throat again. Harley’s bruising grip seems to be making a home there. Now, he’s staring deep into Peter’s eyes - his hardened stare bearing into his soul. 

“You won’t kill me,” Peter says with confidence. Nothing can turn Harley that far against him. 

Harley’s voice shocks Peter to his core. 

“No,” he says roughly. “He told me not to.” 

Harley pushes Peter back down, taking a step away from the table. There’s a shift in the way he holds himself - something’s changed in his demeanour and Peter does his best to manipulate it. 

“Could you do this to Mr Stark?” he asks. 

“Tony Stark is dead.” 

That’s one less thing Peter needs to worry about. “But he practically raised you. You wouldn’t do this to him.” 

“He means nothing to me.” 

“You don’t sound so sure.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Pepper told me how you stayed with them one summer. Must’ve been fun, right?” 

“I said  _ shut up. _ ”

“Tell me about it.” 

Harley takes a shaky breath - Peter’s getting through, he knows it. 

“Harley, tell me about Tony.” 

Harley looks to Peter - his eyes softening as Peter gives him the string to drag himself back to reality. His breathing becomes ragged and he clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palms. 

It’s working - Peter’s getting through. He can’t believe it. 

“You remember him, I know you do,” Peter pushes. “Harley, tell - ”

Harley’s fists collides with Peter’s cheek, sending Peter’s head underwater. 

“Don’t tell what I remember,” he growls, bunching his hand into Peter’s wet shirt and pulling him as close as he can. “Tony Stark didn’t raise me, AIM did. He was nothing more than an arrogant bastard with a superiority complex.” 

“You don’t believe that, Harley.” 

“My  _ name  _ is the Green Goblin.”

“Your name is Harley Keener. You’re seventeen years old - you’re older than me by a few months but you hold it over my head all the time.” Peter smiles fondly at the memory. He sees the way Harley squirms and continues. “You had a crush on me when we first met but then you saw me trip over myself in the Spider Man suit. You said that - ”

“It ruined the fantasy,” Harley finishes. He blinks - like he only just realised he was speaking. He looks to Peter as both a stranger and friend - shock, longing, and still that emptiness creating a glassy look in his eyes. “I don’t know you,” he whispers. 

“Who are you trying to convince?” 

Harley doesn’t answer. He runs a hand through his hair like he always does when he’s thinking - when the pieces are slowly coming together. 

_ This is it _ , Peter thinks. He got through, he got Harley back. Now, they can break out, destroy this piece of shit base, and go home - fill that missing hole in their family. This is it. 

Maybe Peter’s a bit lightheaded but he thinks he sees Harley smile. 

And like that, all of Peter’s hopes are destroyed. 

The door clicks open, Osborn stupid smirk the first thing Peter says. He tsked, eyes roaming over the boys and he shakes his head. 

“God, this is too easy,” he says, tone light and casual. “I mean, that was clearly a test.”

“A what?” Peter and Harley say in unison. 

“My Goblin, I’ll see you in my lab,” Osborn orders. 

There’s a moment when Peter’s heart stops beating as Harley hesitates - glancing from Peter to Osborn. 

“Harley, please. Don’t.” Peter tries to reach for him but his fingers fall short. “Harley.”

“Green Goblin,” Harley corrects, ignoring Peter’s hand. He walks away, passing Osborn as he leaves. 

Osborn watches him go, turning back up Peter with arrogance dancing in his eyes. 

“Thank you, Parker. Now we can wipe him again and pay special attention to Stark. You’ve truly done me a favour. I’ll see you soon.”

Osborn spins on his heel and slams the door behind him. The lights switch off shortly after, thrusting Peter back into that darkness - now suffocating, threatening to collapse into him. 

“Fuck,” Peter whispers. 

God, why does he keep fucking everything up? He’s the reason Harley got kidnapped and brainwashed - he got  _ brainwashed _ because Peter wasn’t careful. Osborn had said Harley spent a week starving and unable to sleep - what was Peter doing during that week? Moping around the house, crying in his bed but not even looking for Harley. Not after Rhodey snapped at him. 

All Peter’s done is be useless, a dead weight. A problem for everyone to deal with. 

He can’t stop the tears that start to stream. Everything’s too much - he’s alone, he’s too weak to even break some stupid leather restraints. He’s going to die here, he’ll die and end up as a brainwashed zombie with Harley. 

Maybe AIM will make them fight together - and it’ll be Rhodey that has to stop them. He’ll have to put down both of Tony’s sons even after promising he’ll protect them. 

It feels like someone’s trying to pry open his chest, trying to claw out his heart. Peter can’t imagine how it would destroy Rhodey and Pepper and Happy to have their boys torn apart like this. It’s destroying Peter just thinking about it.

Tears pour down Peter’s cheeks, sobs racking his body and he can’t stop himself. 

He’s never felt so childish - crying to himself and wishing for any adult to save him. This is too much for one kid to handle. Peter can’t breathe through his racing heart, his chest is squeezing tight. 

Peter’s fucked up too many times and now he’s alone, he’s brought this on himself and he’ll deal with this by himself. It’s his fault. It’s his fault. Peter did this to Harley - he let him be torn to pieces and turned against good and right. Against Peter. He’s just a puppet now. 

Harley, headstrong and smart - so damn smart - doesn’t deserve an end like this. He should be thinking about colleges and his career. He should be _ thinking _ \- for himself, not as some puppet for this shitty AIM. 

Peter pushed too hard and now it’ll be impossible to get to Harley.

Peter rides the wave of his breakdown until he falls off near the shore - gasping for air and exhausted. When he’s finally able to breathe properly - first, he feels embarrassment rise - Peter notices something… not right. He feels different - better even. 

A thought passes through his mind and he decides to test it, he has nothing left to lose right now. 

Peter pulls at the restraints around his wrists. The material digs into his skin, sensitive from the days - weeks? - of being covered and chaffed. There’s a slight give but Peter falls back, his muscles exhausted. He sucks in a breath, a dull surge of incentive forcing him to continue. The tight material rips as he pulls, until he bursts from the cuff. Peter goes for the one around his chest, straining until he’s bolting into a sitting position. He chooses to unbuckle the restraints around his ankles. 

Peter throws his legs over the side of the table and takes a moment to process everything. It seems that crying was the way to push whatever remained of the drug from his system. Great. If only if he’d known that earlier. Instead of repressing everything, Peter should’ve just cried like a baby. 

Peter smiles, full of delirium and hysteria, but it gives him a slight burst of energy. He slowly lowers himself to the ground, his legs wobbling from misuse and he falls to the nearest wall for support. He steadies himself - closing his eyes and tries sensing any cameras in the room. There’s nothing obvious like Beck’s drones were. 

When Peter opens his eyes, he’s anew. 

He’s getting out of here, he’s finding Harley - he’ll drag him from here kicking and screaming if he has to - and he’ll destroy every inch of the place. He’ll burn anyone and anything that ever hurt Harley. 

Peter pushes through the burning in his muscles as he makes it for the door. It’s partially his spider senses, partially blindly looking, but he finds the opening and the door swings open. 

The lights outside are too bright, Peter brings a hand to cover his eyes. He takes the moment of adjusting to send his senses out like a web but finds nothing gets caught. He’s alone, although he isn’t sure how far his reach is - he should be okay. 

Peter picks a direction and starts walking with determination. He hugs the wall, both for support and to keep himself hidden around corners. He passes doors left and right, reading the inscriptions if they have any. 

There’s a room simply described at disposal that Peter has a feeling isn’t for garbage. 

The hallways Peter passes through are plain, an off white colour that leaves him disoriented. He’s turned too many corners, seen too many doors that they've all started to blend into one. The base is endless and empty. 

Peter sees a door labelled stairs and takes his chances. His footsteps echo down the concrete steps - he leaps down the last remaining few, using the bannister for support. As he leaps from level to level, Peter can’t help but long for his web-shooters - for any kind of weapon really. He’s still weary to be in any kind of fight. 

A door reads “Level 7” in large block letters. He pushes through the door, stumbling into another barren hallway. Only this time, when Peter turns his head to the right, he sees two guards - armoured head to toe with only a sliver of their faces showing - looking dead into his eyes. 

“Well, this isn’t the bathroom,” he says. 

The guards whip out their pistols in swift motions, pulling their triggers before Peter can close his mouth. He twists to the side but he’s not at his peak, a bullet skins the side of his right arm. Blood already begins to pour from the wound. 

Peter moves forward despite the pain, closing the distance between them. Up close, he can see that it’s one woman and one man. He reaches the woman first, dodging another shot and grabs the barrel of her gun. It burns his palm but he grits his teeth and tears it from her hands. It goes flying across the hallway and clatters to the ground. 

She’s pulled forward by the momentum. Peter punches her jaw, sending her reeling. The man is close behind him and Peter sends his elbow back into his face. The man fires on reflex. 

The gun goes off right by his left ear. 

Peter staggers back. There’s a ringing in his ear that’s threatening to swallow him - it sends ripples of pain through him. His head is stuck in a vice, his balance lost. The world sways under him and he’s vaguely aware of the man before him. 

A gun he doesn’t see goes off and his right thigh is burning. Peter falls to his knees, feeling the jolt through his bones. 

Peter has a moment to breathe before a gun is aggressively pushed under his chin, forcing his head up. The man is before him, the woman nursing her jaw next to him. 

“Nice try, kid,” the man says. His brown, almost black, eyes shine with smugness as he stares down at Peter. “Osborn won’t be happy to hear about this.”

The woman says, “Should we take him straight to the lab with the other one? Get this over with?”

Peter swallows down the burning pain that’s spreading - trying to smooth the emotions from his face. “Don’t touch me.” 

The man pushes the gun harder, smiling sickly. “You’re in no position to make demands.”

“Up.” The woman grabs his upper arm, dragging him to feet. 

Only a slight amount of pressure is put onto his leg but it radiates in pain. Peter represses a wince. The woman’s nails dig into Peter’s skin, his thin hoodie doing nothing to soften them. The man grabs his other arm with a bruising hold, his gun staying pointed at Peter. 

Peter limps forward. Blood pulses through his leg and arm, the ringing in his ear still screams. 

There’s a distant voice in his head, begging him to fight back. If he can’t get out now, he’ll never make it when they take him back to Osborn. 

It’s now or never, the voice says. And he’d rather be dead than a brainwashed soldier. 

With what little strength he has left, what dwindling hope and motivation to keep going, Peter forces air into his lungs and lashes out. He tears his arm from the woman’s hold - her nails leaving scratches. Using the momentum, Peter’s arm keeps moving, fist speeding to meet the man’s face. 

There’s a satisfying crunch of bone. And from there, time slows. Peter draws back, seizing hold of the man’s gun. Peter hears it skid to a stop on the ground but never lets his attention falter.

He twists, fist coming to collide with the woman’s jaw. He doesn’t realise how much strength is behind the throw but she crumbles to the floor. 

Peter turns back around again just in time to catch the man’s incoming punch. 

“Little shit,” the man hisses, blood streaming from his nose. 

“I live to please,” Peter retorts - using his enhanced agility to crouch, his right leg sweeping the man's legs from under him. Peter bites his lip as the bullet wound throbs. 

The man lands harshly on his back, groaning. Peter rushes to stand, sending a sharp kick to the man’s head. It crashes against the wall. The man’s eyes flutter but never close. So Peter kicks him again, finally knocking him out. 

Peter leans against the wall, taking a moment to breathe and watches the guards in case they wake up. Every inch of his being is screaming in pain and exhaustion - not even adrenaline can push him any further. 

But he can’t afford to waste any time. Surely, someone heard the commotion - they have to know he’s escaped by now. And when did Peter ever go quietly? Harley always said he was a stubborn bitch, this time Peter will let him be right. 

Peter doesn’t know how but he keeps moving, ignoring the pain that’s tearing at his body. He turns his mind off, leaning on his spider senses as he walks. 

He passes a closed room with almost a dozen people inside - it’s barely a few meters away from the two unconscious bodies. So Peter safety assumes the walls are soundproof. It gives him peace of mind when he tumbles to the floor, swearing profusely as he goes. 

He follows the curve of the hallway, realising that he’s been leaving a trail of blood. He knows that he’s slowing down as he bleeds out - and if he doesn’t stop it soon, he’ll never make it out. 

Before Peter can think of a plan, the hair on the back of his neck sticks up. He ducks into the nearest door, locking it behind him. 

Peter holds his breath, unable to tell what’s happening outside. But after a few moments, the anxiety creeps away. Peter turns around to examine the room and almost collapses in relief. 

Guns line the room, rounds of ammunition on shelves - an armoury. And on the center table lays Peter’s web-shooters, dismantled but they’re there. Limping over, his trembling hands get to work. He puts the web-fluid in and closes them around his wrists. 

The weight gives Peter a surge of comfort and strength. First, he webs both his leg and arm - stopping the blood flow. There’s a sharp sting but it fades after a moment. 

Peter might get through this after all. 

He considers taking a gun but considering he’s never even fired one before, he doubts this is a good time to learn. Peter cracks open the door, his newly found resolve shattering slightly when he hears yelling. 

The bodies were found. 

“Red alert,” a woman’s voice shouts. “Lock down the base.” 

Peter shuts the door in time for half a dozen guards to run past. He waits to hear their retreating footsteps before he slips out of the room, adjusting his web-shooters. He was going to try and be subtle as he tiptoed around the base but now, there’s no point. He doesn’t have to fight everyone here - he just needs to find Harley and escape with as little trouble as possible. 

Peter walks, not stealthily but not loudly either. He has a mission and no matter how hard he has to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from whimpering, he’ll finish it or die trying. 

If it comes down to it, would he kill Harley, too?

“Nope, too dark,” he whispers to himself. “One problem at a time.”

Peter physically shakes the thought from his head, focusing on the feeling of his nails digging into his burnt hand from grabbing a recently fired gun. That move always worked in the movies. It’s a good thing that Peter decided against arming himself beyond his web-shooters. 

Peter freezes, pressing himself against the wall when he hears pounding footsteps coming towards him from around the corner. It takes a while - his left ear makes everything sound muffled - but he realises it’s only one person. He gives a small sigh of relief.

He waits - and as the person comes around the corner, Peter leaps out. His webs fire with needing thought. Over the mouth, tie the hands together, stick feet to the ground. It’s a pattern Peter trusts, muscle memory working perfectly. When Peter stops, he sees a man glaring at him. 

“Sorry, Mr Discount HYDRA agent,” Peter quips, earning an annoyed eye roll. 

As Peter keeps moving, he reads every sign he sees, searching for Osborn’s lab. He leaves a trail of AIM agents stuck in his webbing. 

For the sixth time, he asks someone, “Where’s Osborn’s lab?”

And gets a sixth, “Go to hell.”

Peter webs their mouths back up and carries on. He’s still on Level 7 and hasn’t seen another flight of stairs but swears he’s just going in a circle. As Peter’s hopes are straining, the universe seems to reward him for his pain. 

The hallway is ending and at the very end, there’s a closed door - a plaque that clearly reads  _ Doctor Norman Osborn _ . 

Peter is sure to mutter a small thank you to whichever god took pity on him. It’s suspiciously unguarded but Peter takes that as a good sign. They must think he’s on another level. Peter has never run as fast as he’s running now. The pain from his wounds fades away because nothing can stop him from getting to Harley. 

_ Just, please don’t try to kill me right away _ , Peter thinks grimly. His feet pounding on the floor can only distantly be heard over his racing heart. 

Peter doesn’t see if the door’s open - throwing his weight against it opens it quick enough. He skids to a stop across the room, breathing heavily as he instinctively covers his eyes from the only light that’s shifting rapidly in the room. He scans the room the best he can, finding nothing that resemblances a lab. More like a torture chamber. 

He sees the back to a chair and as his eyes look up, there’s a familiar head of brown hair. 

“Harley?” 

He doesn’t respond and Peter realises his attention is glued onto a screen that’s emitting the light. Peter takes a risky glance. He can barely make out any of the images flashing but adverts his gaze. 

He sucks in a breath, closes his eyes, and runs for the screen. He stops just before it, letting his fist slam into it. The glass shatters into a million pieces that rain down on Peter. When he dares to open his eyes, the room has been thrust into darkness with only a small amount of light being let in through the door. 

Peter spins on his heel, kneeling before Harley. Now, Peter can see AIM’s idea of brainwashing. There’s a contraption that goes over Harley’s head, metal prods holding his eyes open. Electrodes are stuck to either side of his temple. Peter jumps when a bolt of electricity jolts Harley’s stiff body. 

Harley’s glassy eyes are still glued to where the screen was. 

“Harley?” Peter says softly. He keeps his hands steady as he slowly takes apart the contraption. Another zap of electricity hits Harley before Peter can get the electrodes off. 

Peter has felt heartbreak far too many times in his short life but nothing compares to this. No, this complete shattering of his heart is special, different. This is black, emptiness that wants to swallow him whole. Harley’s empty face sends daggers through Peter. Like this, he’s unrecognisable. Harley was always moving, always filled to the brim with life. This - this isn’t Harley, this is a shell. And Peter isn’t sure if there’s anything inside. 

But he has to try. He won’t give up on Harley, not after everything they’ve been through. 

Peter’s hand come to frame Harley’s face - his skin is freezing and Peter’s fingers barely brush against him. 

“Harley,” he tries, “you have to snap out of this. You - you have to be in there. What will - what’ll Mr. Stark think, when he wakes up and you’re not there? Do it for him. Please.”

Harley doesn’t so much as blink and Peter wants to throw up. 

“Har - ” Peter’s voice shakes too much to speak, tears welling up in his eyes. “Harley. Harley,  _ please _ . I - I promised that I wouldn’t leave you, remember? You have to do the - the same, please, Harley.” 

In the silence, Peter’s sob wracks through the room - his tears drip onto the concrete floor. 

“I need you,” Peter whispers, body trembling so violently he might tear himself apart. He thinks he prefers that than this. This pain, this deep reaching hurt that is impossible to name, that runs so deep within him now. 

There will be nothing left of him, less than this shell before him. Like his blood turning black, Peter is breaking. 

“Don’t leave me.”

In a heartbeat - but not his own heart in shreds - Harley’s eyes flicker to Peter’s. As Peter’s lips begin to form his name, Peter is thrown to the ground. Harley is on top of him, fist raised and face still that harrowing empty. 

Peter chokes on a sob and reacts instinctively. His arms come to cover his face -  _ this is it, this is when he kills me _ \- and he waits for the first blow.  _ I failed him, I lost him. This is what I deserve _ . 

Only the strike never comes. 

Slowly, in disbelief, Peter lowers his arms. His eyes met Harley’s and - and there’s  _ something  _ in those stormy eyes. Harley’s fist shakes like he can’t decide if he wants to hurt Peter or not. 

“Harley,” Peter says gently, taking the opportunity. “It’s me. It’s Peter. You’re okay, now.”

Harley takes ragged breaths, face twisting into a combination of emotions Peter can’t decipher. 

“They said - they said you were bad,” Harley chokes out, voice rough. “I thought you were bad but I - I saw you cry. Bad people don’t cry.” 

He speaks like he's trying to convince himself, trying to understand how the two thoughts can exist at the same time in his mind. 

“I’m not bad, Harley, and neither are you.” 

Harley blinks and a wave washes over him - his eyes clearing ever so slightly. He pulls himself off Peter, taking large steps backwards. He looks like a wounded animal, one Peter desperately wants to soothe. Peter raises his hands, trying to make himself look as non-threatening as possible. 

“I know this is a lot,” Peter says. “But, we really need to move. They’ll be here any second.”

“They?” Harley echoes.

“The real bad people, the ones that hurt you.” Peter feels one last tear slip down his cheek. He must look like a mess, covered in blood, sweat, and tears, but he tries to keep his face calm. “We need to leave. Harley - ” Peter offers out a hand - “do you trust me?”

“I don’t think I know you,” he replies bluntly. He hesitates. “But yes.”

_ Good enough for now.  _

Harley’s hand slides into Peter’s smoothly, like they were always meant to fit together. Peter thinks his heart skips a beat because it’s been so long since he got to touch Harley. 

Peter can see Harley relax a bit. There’s nothing Peter wants more than to stop time, give Harley the space he needs to get even one foot back into reality. He should take a moment, figure out what’s going on in Harley’s mind. But he knows better than to trust that anything good will last for long. If they don’t move now, all of Peter’s work would be for nothing. 

“Just, hold onto me, okay?” Peter says. “I’ll get us out of here and then we can fix this.”

“You mean me.”

Peter squeezes Harley’s hand, unable to answer that. Peter’s foot passes the threshold of the room, never letting go of Harley as they break into a gentle jog. Peter’s relying wholly on dumb luck to get out of here. 

But with Harley behind him, Peter doesn’t waste time panicking. Harley’s touch gives him the strength he needs to carry on. 

They’ll get through this. They have to. 


	5. Chapter 5

With a sickening mixture of fear and something that exceeds rage hollowing him out, Peter doesn’t trust himself to stop and think. His legs keep pounding against the floor. His hand - the one not holding tightly onto Harley - flies around to fire his webs at the oncoming AIM soldiers. 

Harley is silent behind him. Peter doesn’t dare to look back, afraid that he might not be there anymore. Peter just trusts the nails digging into his palm will stay there.

They come to an intersection in the hallways and Peter freezes. The wrong choice and they could be fucked. 

“Left,” Peter hears only in his right ear. Harley’s gruff voice barely above a whisper. This time, Peter risks a glance, flashing Harley a grateful smile and catching the small twitch of his mouth. 

Peter ducks left - strangely being comforted seeing the bloodstains on the floor that he knows belongs to him. He spots the door to the stairs and pushes through. The concrete walls of the large winding staircase make Peter’s panting breath echo. Harley’s slower breaths brush against the back of Peter’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine. 

Peter looks up and looks down - the stairs continue further than he can see both ways. He assumes they’re underground so he wants to go up, but six flights of stairs with a bullet in his thigh might be impossible. He leans over the railing, catching sight of a platform that has to be at least four flights up. 

He sighs - he has a dumb idea but it’s all he has. 

Peter lets go of Harley, climbs onto the railing and he gives a soft breath. His right web-shooter fires as he exhales. It flies through the air and it sticks to the concrete platform. 

“Harley,” Peter says, looking down at Harley’s questioning gaze. “How much do you trust me?”

Harley looks at Peter, peers over the edge of the railing - at how far he could fall. He hesitates, Peter desperately wants to know what’s going through his mind. But then Harley climbs onto the railing next to Peter. 

“Don’t have much choice do I,” Harley mutters, not intending for Peter to hear. Which he barely does. 

“You always have a choice.” 

Harley whips his head to look at Peter, narrowing his eyes. Waiting for an order, Peter realises. 

“Let’s just - get this over with.” 

Peter nods, wrapping his free arm around Harley’s waist and pulling him close. His chest flutters, Harley’s face so close to his own. Harley’s arms come to rest around Peter’s shoulders - tucking his face into the crook of Peter’s neck. 

The web retracts into his device and the boys are pulled upwards. With barely enough space between the railings of either flight of stairs to squeeze their bodies through, Peter brings Harley in closer. He pretends Harley isn’t as stiff as a brick, that he’s holding on as tight as he can. His once almost bruising grip, leaving imprints in his palm, is gone now that they’re holding onto each other. 

Peter brushes away that concern - he can’t expect much right now. As long as Harley isn’t trying to kill him, Peter can’t ask for more. 

As the web comes to an end, Peter shifts so he and Harley will be able to climb up and over the railing. Harley’s pulled himself up before Peter’s even got a hand around the metal poles. Peter drags himself up further - freezing when the door signed with Level 2 opens. He sees the boots of two soldiers in the threshold, eyes scanning up to find two assault rifles pointed at Harley’s face. 

“Green Goblin,” a man says. “Osborn’s looking for you.”

“Let’s move,” the other man says. 

Peter lowers himself, they must not have seen him and he needs to keep it that way. Harley’s trembling where he stands, body frozen as his mind whirls. 

“ _ Now _ ,” the second man orders. 

Harley goes to move and Peter stops breathing altogether. He can’t lose Harley now, not after everything.  _ Not now, not now _ . 

Peter reacts without thinking. He yanks himself up with one hand, throwing him up so he can see the soldiers. His free hand fires quicker than he’s ever moved. Mouth, hands, feet - the pattern natural to him. But still, he’s too slow to see the gun firing. Too slow to see it lodge into Harley’s shoulder.

Then it’s all too fast. 

Harley falls, face scrunched in pain. Peter’s grip falters and he goes flying after Harley. Raw panic takes him. Peter fires his web-shooters, the white material speeding into opposite directions. One latches onto the concrete he was just hanging onto. The other takes what seems like years to reach Harley, fastening to his chest. 

Peter groans, gritting his teeth as Harley’s weight pulls on his arm. Harley meets his gaze from two floors down, giving him a small nod that sends a surge of relief through Peter. He’s still with him. 

Harley sees him struggling and, as best he can, pulls himself up the web. Blood pours from his shoulder and yet, he never relents. Harley reaches for Peter’s hand, slotting in perfectly and Peter drags him up the rest of the way. 

From the awkward angle, Peter manages to throw Harley onto the platform below where he had fallen. Peter drops himself next to him. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asks through deep breaths. 

Harley looks to his shoulder, shrugging. 

“Do you mind if I - ” Peter gestures to the wound and to his web-shooter. Harley shakes his head so Peter takes a step back, and coats his shoulder with the webbing. 

Harley hisses but doesn’t flinch back. “Fuck, man.” 

Peter gives a small smile, spraying a little extra before asking, “Did it go through?” while twisting Harley around. 

He gives a grunt in response and Peter just knows he’s rolling his eyes. Peter’s heart drops when he sees the gaping wound that scarcely missed Harley’s shoulder blade. 

Peter opens his mouth but can’t find the right words to express how much shock he’s in. Harley pulled his own weight with a sizeable hole in his body and barely broke a sweat. Peter wonders to what extent that serum changed him. But he closes his mouth and webs the wound. 

“Any idea where to go? We can’t stay here,” Peter says. 

Harley looks around, his eyes bouncing over Peter like he can’t bring himself to look at him. 

Harley takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea what’s happening. I wasn’t sure whose side I was on until, like, thirty seconds ago.” 

“Oh, but - but you do now?” 

“You haven’t shot me, so I’m with you. And - and I know we know each other but that’s all I’ve got.”

“I can work with that,” Peter says. “We’ll fix everything else later.”

Peter hesitates for a moment, eyes stuck on Harley - trying to take in every detail of his face. He hasn’t had a moment to process that it’s been  _ three fucking months _ since Harley had gone missing. And it’s all hitting him now. It’s all too overwhelming and there’s a lump forming in the back of his throat. His chest tightens in that painfully familiar way and he’s dizzy. He knows what's happening but he can’t stop it - can’t breathe - he can’t - 

“Peter?” 

Harley’s hand finds its way back into Peter’s. It’s like they back home - Harley holding Peter through the night when his problems were so vastly different. 

“Peter, stay with me,” Harley says gently. 

God, why is it always Harley comforting him? Even after everything that’s happened, nothing can change the fact that Harley is the only thing grounding him. Peter forces out a breath, it’s shaky and brief but Harley stays with him. 

“Okay, okay, I - I’m good,” Peter mutters as he comes down. “I’m good.” 

He looks at Harley, finding a reassuring smile on his lips. 

“Good, cause we should keep moving.” Harley pointedly looks behind Peter, who twists around to find three unconscious bodies draped across the stairwell. 

“Uh - what?” 

“They came while you were out of it so I just - ” Harley holds up a gloved hand and wiggles his fingers - “took care of it.” 

“Damn, what did Osborn give me?” Peter asks. He’s never gone that far into his own head while he’s in this much danger. It must be the drug that’s affecting his senses, though, he didn’t think it was still in his system. 

Harley tilts his head. “I could probably figure it out,” he says with a shrug, 

“Wait, you - you know how to make the drug? Anything else that could be important?” Peter asks. He needs to know what’s going on with Harley, what memories he has. 

“I - ” Harley narrows his eyes, looking down - “it - it hurts when I try. I’m sorry, I can’t.” He brings the heels of his palms to rub his eyes. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t - don’t push yourself. Just… try to let me know if anything comes back, okay?”

Harley only nods, his eyes become clouded. Peter worries that he’s slipping away but when Harley’s hand grabs tightly onto his, Peter can see pieces of the boy he knew returning. Whatever is happening to him - no matter how shattered his brain is - he’s got Harley back and that’s enough for now. 

“Do we keep going up?” Peter asks. “Anything on this lev - ”

Peter’s words fall flat - two levels up the door bangs open. Soldiers pile onto the stairs, one spots the boys and they hurry forward. 

Peter drags Harley through the door labelled Level 3. He swears under his breath as they end up in another identical hallway to the rest of the base. Peter doesn’t take a moment to think, turning right and the boys run.

Peter’s thigh is burning more than ever and his webbing is starting to turn red. His ear aches terribly and there’s a ringing that he’s only just noticed. Harley is already bleeding through the webs. And they’re still as lost as ever. 

Still not Peter’s worst chances. 

As Peter and Harley sprint through the base - webs and electricity flying - the walls tremble, dust and small pieces of rubble raining down on them. 

“What’s going on?” Harley asks, his grip tightening on Peter. 

“I don’t know,” he answers, eyes scanning the ceiling for any sign of cracks. The last thing they need is for the ceiling to collapse onto them. 

Peter takes it slow now, carefully watching the ceiling as they move. 

The hair on the back of Peter’s neck suddenly sticks up and he quickly pulls his arm out, stopping Harley as they both skid to a halt. They stop just before a corner, crashing sounds emitting from around there. 

Peter swears he hears the sound of a repulsor powering up but before he can’t process that though, he throws them back even further. A body goes flying in front of them. It smashes into the wall next to them, crumpling to the ground. 

Something comes flying after it. Pausing when they see Peter and Harley. 

Before them stands the blue and golden Rescue suit, hovering an inch above the ground as the blank face mask stares down at the boys. The suit drops to the floor, the mask uncovering to reveal Pepper’s wide eyes - her mouth hung open in disbelief. 

“What are - I don’t -  _ how _ ?” Peter stumbles, taking a step forward without thought, drawn to her. 

The corner of Pepper’s mouth twitches up, eyes jumping back and forth between her boys. “Uh - tracker in your - your shoes. Rhodey’s as paranoid as Tony. Took a while, this place encrypts every fucking signal. I -  _ God _ , Harley, I missed you, sweetheart.” 

Pepper steps forward, arms outstretched for Harley and Peter doesn’t think twice about it. Not until Harley violently flinches back, almost cowering behind Peter. Pepper immediately recoils, hand coming to cover her mouth and her eyes widen in shock. The same thought passes through both Pepper’s and Peter’s minds: Harley’s afraid of her. 

“Peter,” Pepper says softly, the raw devastation on her face soul-crushing. “What happened?” 

Peter’s torn - wanting to comfort both Harley and Pepper. A quick glance at Harley shows his hardened gaze, his body tense like he’s waiting for an attack. His fists are clenched and Peter can hear the buzz of electricity in gloves. It makes his arm ache in memory. 

Looking back at Pepper, Peter can’t find the words to describe anything that’s happened today. This  _ year _ , really. 

“No time,” he says instead. “Just - he needs to get out.” 

Pepper hesitates, taking one last concerned look at Harley before moving her attention onto Peter. 

“Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath as she smooths her face. “Down the hall, take a left, you can’t miss the hole I came down from. Rhodey and I made a mess but it should be clear.” 

“Rhodey’s here? Where?” 

“I’m not sure. We got separated.” 

Peter nods, processing everything. He’s praying that Pepper and Rhodey did, in fact, clear the next two floors - he can’t imagine he has much fight left in him. 

“Okay, make sure he makes it out and we’ll see you out there,” Peter says, feeling strange that he’s the one giving out orders. 

Pepper mutters a soft “Okay,” and turns to fly further down the hall when Peter has a thought flash through his mind. He reaches for Pepper’s armoured hand, her fingers curling around his on instinct. 

Peter moves in close, lowering his voice as he says, “This place needs to go. Burn it, blow it up, I don’t care. We need it gone.” 

Pepper’s eyes dart back to Harley after he says  _ we _ , darkening as Peter can only assume her mind rushes with every possible thing that’s happened to them. 

She nods. “I’ll see you out there,” Pepper echoes. 

As she takes off, Peter turns back to Harley - finding his eyes glazed over with an unreadable emotion. Peter takes his hand again, squeezing it until Harley snaps back to the present. 

“Still with me?” Peter asks. 

Harley studies him. “I should know her, right?” 

Peter’s breath is caught in his throat, his heart dropping. The air seems to crush him - he can’t even begin to fathom how he’s supposed to explain this. This can’t be real, he can’t be doing this, can’t be here. How is he meant to handle this?  _ How _ ?

“We’ll fix this later,” Peter reiterates. 

Harley takes the shitty explain, forcing himself to push away whatever thoughts are flying around his head. 

Peter’s way in over his head, wishing that he asked Pepper to stay. Looking at Harley - how every piece of him seems different now - Peter isn’t sure how he’s supposed to continue. 

“We’re almost out,” Peter says, ignoring that voice that’s screaming he’s a liar. “Just hold on a little longer.” He should be talking to a mirror. 

“You too.” 

Peter blinks owlishly, caught off guard by Harley’s words and the way he’s watching Peter - more aware than Peter gave him credit for. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” 

They keep running through the base in the direction Pepper came from. Peter knows that their joined hands are the only thing that’s giving him the strength to carry on. So when Harley’s hand suddenly falls from Peter’s hold, he almost trips over himself. 

Using the wall to hold him, Peter twists - finding Harley frozen, staring at a door Peter hadn’t bothered to notice. 

“Harley, come on,” Peter says firmly. “We don’t have time.”

Harley doesn’t make any sign that he heard Peter. Instead, a tremor passes through his hand as he reaches for the doorknob. It’s locked but that doesn’t stop Harley. Now sure of himself, Harley pushes all of his weight against the door and goes stumbling into the room. 

“God damn it,” Peter mutters to himself, following after him. 

Passing through the threshold, Peter notices a plaque that makes his stomach flip.  _ Doctor Norman Osborn _ it reads and for a heartbeat, Peter thinks they’re walking into the same kind of room he found Harley in. But then Peter finds himself in a real lab - with tables and equipment sprawled across the large room. 

Harley stands before a table lined with beakers and vials filled with every colour. His eyes scan rapidly over them all like he’s searching for something. 

“Do you know what this all is?” Peter asks, moving to the other side of the table. None of these substances look even remotely familiar and he’s too afraid to touch them, just in case. 

Harley doesn’t answer him. He picks out a collection of vials, a sickly green liquid inside. His whole face darkens as he inspects it, his breath coming out slow and forced. 

“This is it,” Harley says, voice low and gruff. 

“It?” 

It hits Peter - the green is the same colour as Osborn’s skin, the poison spreading through him. This is the serum that Osborn used on Harley. 

“What do we do with it?” Peter asks. 

A glint passes through Harley’s eyes and he moves around the room silently. Peter grimaces as Harley picks up two brightly coloured beakers and pours them into a larger one. The bubbling mixture releases a small plume of smoke. 

“Harley, please.” 

“It needs to go,” Harley says, his eyes never landing on Peter. 

“Pepper and Rhodey will deal with it,” Peter tries - whatever Harley’s going to do, Peter wishes he won’t. “We need to get out of here.” 

Harley ignores Peter, shifting through the multitude of substances. Though Peter has no clue what he’s looking for, when Harley lights up at a grey chemical surrounded by a glass box, Peter realises he won’t win. Harley doesn’t even check to see if the box is locked - his fist smashes through it seamlessly. 

He moves back to before Peter, glass-covered hand holding the grey vial. “I need to know it’s gone. That it won’t hurt anyone else,” Harley says, desperation seeping into his voice and Peter can’t argue anymore. 

Peter nods. “What can I do?” 

Harley finds a stand clamp, putting the grey substance into it and moves it above the bubbling beaker. Harley gestures with his head to the door, Peter joins him as they hover in the threshold. 

Confused, Peter looks between Harley and the setup in the lab. 

Harley holds up his wrist, fingers mimicking the way Peter holds his web-shooters and pretends to fire. Peter gets the idea, his web speeds towards the vial and yanks it from the clamp. 

Harley pushes Peter back, pulling the door closed. On instinct, Peter throws himself over Harley as an explosion rattles the building. 

Smoke pours from under the door, a foul smell emits from the room. 

“A warning would’ve been nice,” Peter complains. 

Harley shrugs. “Bit late now. Do you want to keep moving or are we just gonna stand here?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Peter says - but there’s no bite his tone. He can’t bring himself to be frustrated or even annoyed as more and more pieces of the boy he so sorely missed peaking through this hardened mask of his. 

Harley holds out his hand - an invitation, a promise, a declaration that he is here; here with Peter and it’s where he wants to stay. By his side, clutching onto him like a lifeline in the chaos. The swirling storm in his eyes tells Peter everything he needs to know, even if he can’t discern it all. 

Peter takes Harley’s hand, a spark passes through their skin that Peter can’t tell where it came from. 

Peter moves slower now, keeping a watchful eye on his leg and Harley’s shoulder - both are bleeding steadily still, a dull flow but he doesn’t think they have much longer. 

They find the hole Pepper mentioned and Peter webs them through. She was right when she said her and Rhodey left a mess. Walls and pieces of the floor are destroyed, bodies - dead or unconscious, Peter won’t check - are scattered throughout the hallway. 

He adjusts his grip on Harley and leads him through the debris. 

The building continues to tremble occasionally, dust rains down on them but they never stop. A particularly hard rumble from below them sends Peter falling - his injured leg unable to support him. 

The hard jolt sends ripples of pain through every inch of his body. No longer moving, Peter feels the impossible weight of exhaustion land directly on top of him. 

It knocks him around so much, there’s no warning to the ceiling crumbling. Peter can only close his eyes as he waits for the impact. 

A hot panting breath on his cheek is all that comes. 

Peeking his eyes open, Peter’s heart skips several beats. 

Harley is kneeling above him, clenched fist digging into the ground by Peter’s head. His face is scrunched in pain - a piece of rubble the length of his torso lays on his back. Harley’s eyes are barely open but still, he shares the wild look Peter is sure he has. 

Harley’s curls are drenched in sweat, sticking to his forehead - giving his skin a heavenly glow. The toned muscles that pass by Peter’s face send rivers of euphoria through him, dosing any fibre of pain he once felt. 

Barely an hour ago, Harley was punching Peter and now. God, now - even with what scrambled memories he must have - Harley is here, he is protecting Peter without so much as a passing thought. And hovering above him, eyes glued to Peter’s - and he swears they dart further below - Peter realises Harley is all he’ll ever need. 

He’ll only crave those wicked smiles that seems to last for days, that are warm enough to heat even the coldest of winters. He’ll only long for those strong, slender hands to hold him through the night - to fight back the fears that want to swallow him whole. 

In a thought that can only be conveyed as “ _ Oh _ ,'' Peter quickly comes to terms with a fundamental truth. 

“Harley, I - ”

The words have scarcely left his mouth before Peter feels another presence. Whoever it is lifts the slab from Harley’s back, discarding it with ease. Harley almost collapses from the sudden change of pressure. 

He drops, twisting so he sits by Peter as they stare up. Rhodey stands over them, his War Machine suit scratched but his face mask lifting reveals not even a bruise on his skin. 

“Hey,” he says with a deep breath, offering a hand down to Peter. 

He takes it with gratitude, doing his best to avoid jostle his thigh. Harley gets to his feet before Rhodey can do the same, instinctively shifting closer to Peter. 

“Hey,” Peter answers. “Are you okay?” 

Rhodey regards him for a moment, muttering a small, “Of course,” before adding a louder, “I’m good now. I - god, okay - anything I need to know right now?” 

Peter replies, “Uh, Pepper’s gone off somewhere. The rest can wait.” 

Rhodey’s eyes flicker to Harley, thankfully deciding not to push any further. He hesitates for a moment before speaking again, clearly struggling to control his emotions from rising. 

“Okay, w - well, the exit’s, um, pretty clear,” he says. 

“Like a massive hole in the roof?” 

“Seemed like a good idea at the time. Wait for Pepper and me outside. We’re getting out of here as soon as we can.” 

Peter nods as Rhodey awkwardly clasps him on the shoulder. He doesn’t try to touch Harley, sensing that something’s off. Rhodey leaves them, flying down the hall to inevitably destroy more of the base. 

Harley opens his mouth but Peter interrupts him. “Don’t worry about it,” Peter says. 

“We’ll fix it later,” Harley parrots, Peter nods. 

All day he’s been repressing any thought, any emotion - only able to focus on Harley because he’s all that matters. But this realisation, slapping him across the face, is so overwhelming it seems impossible that he’ll ever be able to function again. As the pieces slid gently together, everything makes sense now. 

Harley snaps his fingers in front of Peter’s face. 

“Why do you keep doing that? It’s confusing.” 

“This is just - ” Peter hesitates. What even is this? Like he has any clue what’s happening - “this is a lot for me. It’s been a long day.” 

“It’s the middle of the night,” Harley corrects. Peter shoots him a puzzled look, which he just shrugs in response. “I just know.” 

“Well,” Peter starts, “when we get out of here, you can teach me how to do that.” 

“Yeah, well, one step at a time.”

When Peter goes to reach for Harley’s hand again, he pulls away - sending a dagger through Peter’s heart. But his next move is one Peter never saw coming. 

Harley tugs off his right glove. His bare fingers curl around Peter’s. His skin, calloused and rough, still folds perfectly to fit with Peter’s. He never realised how much he longed for this closeness. 

A shared thought passes through both their minds:  _ we’re almost out, almost free _ . 

Their footsteps pound against the floor in time with each other, a rhythmic pattern that echoes down the barren halls. The bodies become fewer in between. Peter pretends he didn’t see a gaping hole in a man’s chest, ignores the pool of blood he almost steps him. Not that he can blame Pepper or Rhodey for doing this - it’s less than these people deserve. 

They slide around a corner, finding a large hole where the ceiling was blasted apart at the end of the hallway. Peter readies to sling them through when the hairs on his neck stand straight up and anxiety creeps into his already sick stomach. He swallows it back down. 

Without looking around, Peter fires a web through the hole - Harley latches onto him and they fly upwards. Landing harshly on the upper floor, Harley bolts up before Peter can blink. He follows quick enough, his senses on full blast. 

Peter looks ahead and has to clench his fist to stop himself from pouncing. 

Norman Osborn stands before them, a single rifle in his hand that hangs by his side. He regards the boys with a sense of unbridled fury. 

“Should’ve had him kill you when I had the chance,” he hisses to Peter. 

“Bit late now,” Peter retorts, resisting the urge to step closer to Harley - almost afraid to when he sees how his face has sharpened. 

“Don’t speak so soon,” Osborn says. His eyes dart to Harley, his face smug. “Red. Venom.”

Before Peter’s heart even has a moment to freeze, to process that he should be afraid, Osborn crumples to the floor, gun dropping out of reach . Harley’s outstretched hand is clenched as electricity flows from it. Osborn lets out a groan, the only thing he can do as the volts tear through his body. 

Peter hates to admit it but he feels no sympathy for the man. 

Only when Harley shows no sign of stopping does Peter start to worry. He turns his back on Osborn, only looking at Harley. 

“Harley, that’s enough,” Peter says. 

“No,” Harley’s voice booms - the thunder to match the lightning. “He deserves this.” 

“I know.” Osborn still grunts over Peter. “But this isn’t who you are.” 

“You don’t fucking know me,” he spits, eyes never leaving the man. 

“We both know that isn’t true.” 

Harley’s eyes flash to Peter - all the fight draining from him in a moment. His arm lowers, Osborn collapses into a heap with a grunt. 

“Happy now?” Harley says sarcastically. 

Peter steals a glance to Osborn, seeing how he’s slowly dragging himself up. Peter webs his hands to the ground. 

“We don’t kill people, Harley,” Peter stresses, desperately searching Harley’s face for any trace of the innocent boy he once knew. Now seeing how far his hopes had skyrocketed, Peter’s realising that maybe he doesn’t know Harley - not anymore. The kid from Tennessee would never act like this. 

“ _ We  _ aren’t doing anything.  _ I’m  _ getting payback,” Harley snaps, his arm raising again until Peter puts his hand on him. 

“Do you even know what for?” he asks gently. 

Harley takes a shaky breath, something in him snaps and his whole body melts. He can’t bring himself to look at Peter, but Peter knows he got through. 

“I know that this - that I’m his fault. And I know you won’t let him just get away with this.”

“You’re right. But not like this,” Peter says. “Let’s make a deal - we leave him here and let Pepper or Rhodey decide what we do with him.”

"If you don't kill me now, I will destroy both of you," Osborn calls from the floor, his voice still strained. He tugs at the web's holding his hands down. 

Peter responds by shooting a web at his mouth, barely bothering to look as he does so. 

"Harley, what do you say?" 

"If he escapes - "

"He won't."

"If he does," Harley continues. "I get to kill him."

"Fine." As much as it pains Peter to say - and he knows even if it did happen, it wouldn't give Harley the satisfaction that he wants - he'll give this to him. If it means they finally leave this hell hole, he'd give Harley anything and everything. 

With that, Harley takes Peter's hand and they carry on their path. Stepping over Osborn, Harley delivers a swift kick to his skull and the man passes out. From there, the boys find no other sign of life. 

The door is revealed by a rough gust of wind that travels down the hallways. The fresh air on Peter's skin is heavenly, brushing away the pain that's seeped into his very bones. The dark wilderness outside is complete still despite the shaking building. 

Peter speeds up, desperate for the escape, almost in disbelief that they're so close. Harley's hand squeezes impossibly tight. Finally, fucking  _ finally  _ they're free, they out. This place won't hurt another person, Peter knows that Pepper will fulfill his wish. And he can't wait to see the destruction she will cause. 

His foot touches dirt, his lungs feel clean air, and his eyes lay upon the starry night sky just as the building behind him shakes one last time - fire and energy tear through the crumbling walls. The base falls. 

And Peter and Harley are sent flying, crashing onto the ground, sent into oblivion. 

-

People will say that Pepper Potts - Stark is one of the strongest people you will ever meet. She has stood tall when Tony went missing in Afghanistan. She survived the burning fire that was the Extremis serum and is softer because of it. Against everything, against the universe telling her that she is not made to stay, Pepper is one of the few constants in the world. 

And yet, as she sits now, body trembling violently and bags worn into the very pores of her skin, Pepper does not feel strong. She feels like she is nothing, that she is falling apart atom by atom and very soon, nothing will exist of her. 

The cold pain that settled into the empty space behind her ribcage has lessened - even that feels pity for her. It left her in a state of numbness and she can't imagine that she will ever feel again. The last week of her life was the last straw. 

The only comfort she has is that her daughter is safely asleep in her bed, warm and loved beyond belief. But Pepper is here instead of at home. Pepper is watching her sons and her husband, and their barely moving chests. 

Tony, unconscious as he has been since Thanos destroyed Pepper's world forever. The right side of his body burned and scarred from the gauntlet that had almost melted with his skin. If it weren't for his steady heartbeat on the monitor, Pepper would think he's dead. 

Peter, burns and bruises and bullets lodged deep into his body. As Doctor Cho read out his injuries Pepper sunk deeper and deeper into the suffocating fear that's consumed her for months. He lays so peacefully, hand still stretched out from Rhodey had to tear it away from the other boy's. 

And Harley, pale skin ice cold and tense and everything that Pepper's wanted to hold for so long. Her son that, even in sleep, seems so vastly different to the one she lost. His hands are clenched tightly are the rails of the bed. 

From just beyond the tiny med bay, Pepper has been watching her boys for the last few hours. She could've laughed when she realised that Tony had been right. Those first few years during the Snap, Tony always knew deep down he would never truly be free. And he made this underground hospital for the worst of their constant emergencies. Rhodey and Happy brought him straight down here the moment they could.

When she and Rhodey left the AIM base, the rubble falling down around them, and found Peter and Harley unconscious on the Alaskan ground - this was the only choice they had. Doctor Cho - talented and sworn to secrecy - was waiting for them. 

Rhodey had left to update Happy and get copious amounts of coffee, and Pepper hasn't moved since. 

Her eyes are starting to slip close when a sudden beeping jolts her awake. She holds her breath until she finds where the noise is coming from. 

Harley's heart monitor is picking up, racing as she's sure he's coming to. Despite her instincts, she waits where she is - remembering how scared he seemed last time. It's an eternity later that he moves, breathless as he bolts upright. 

Pepper wants to comfort him, soothe the obvious fear that's taking him. But the way he just sits there, unmoving and eyes planting heavily on the man before him, Pepper is afraid to disturb him. Harley  _ stares _ at Tony, his face the battlefield for the hatred and confusion that are simultaneously flooding his expression. 

Like he can't quite remember who is before him, or whether he is real. 

Slowly, his eyes move, landing on Peter in the bed beside him. And all those conflicting emotions sweep away to relief. Harley's body visibly relaxes, Peter is safe to him. Pepper longs to know what happened between them before she ran into them. 

To her surprise, Harley moves his attention onto her. A hard wall slamming behind his eyes as he looks at her, less of a glare than the one he gave Tony. 

"Hi," Pepper says. "How - how are you?" 

Harley blinks, hesitating. "Where am I?" 

"Somewhere safe," she answers, asking again, "How are you?" 

"I'm fine. Is he okay?" Harley gestures to Peter, still sound asleep. 

Pepper smiles softly. It's still her Harley putting Peter before himself as always. "He will be. He always is," she says. 

Harley nods, processing everything. He looks to Tony again, eyes scanning every jagged piece of his skin. 

"I thought he was dead," he says bluntly. 

Pepper's taken aback. How could Harley not remember Tony? What could they possibly do to her son to make him forget the only father he's known? She tries her best to keep those thoughts from reaching her face. 

"No, not dead, just in a coma," Pepper forces out. 

"I should've known that, right?"

Pepper makes a few noises instead of words, unsure how to answer that. Finally she settles on, "Wh - what do you know?"

Harley looks down, unable to meet her gaze. "I know you know me. I - I remember feeling…  _ something  _ about Peter. And he trusts you, so - " Harley shrugs - "I guess you're safe."

Pepper refuses to let herself cry, not here, not in front of Harley - but the tears sting her eyes. She thought nothing could hurt her anymore but here she is, breaking down in an all new way. Harley doesn't know her, doesn't even recognise her. 

"I'm sorry," Harley mutters. 

"No, oh no, baby. It's not your fault, we can fix this."

"That's what Peter said." 

Pepper gives a tight smile. "We should all listen to him more. Now, sweetheart, you should get some rest. I'll still be here when you wake up." 

Harley glances to her. She can see the tears brimming in his eyes and that only gives leeway to her own tears to spill. He doesn't say anything, simply nods, and lays back down - turning on his side to face both her and Peter. 

Pepper lets herself cry. 

-

Peter wakes up as a train slams into his body. Panting and sweating, he almost flies off the bed as he sits up. A strong hand pushes him back down. 

"Hey, calm down, you're fine."

It's Harley. Oh thank God, it's Harley. That means they escaped, they're truly free. 

"Peter?" Harley says. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. I - what's going on?" 

It takes a while but Peter realises where they are, Mr Stark is a dead giveaway. He looks back up at Harley standing over him - he makes a gesture with his hand, telling Peter to move over. He happily obliges - every inch of his body aching - and Harley settles down next to him on the bed. 

"I really have no clue," Harley admits, his head no quite resting on Peter's shoulder. 

"Oh. Where's Pepper?" Peter asks. 

"She went somewhere with the - um - the other guy. I don't remember his name." As he speaks, Harley slips his hand into Peter's - a lifeline no longer necessary now that they're out of the base but it's still welcomed. It feels natural now. 

"Rhodey?" Peter assumes. "I - uh - are you okay?" 

"Not in the slightest," Harley replies. "You?"

"I'm better now." 

Peter's eyes close on their own accord, body melting to fit around Harley's. This closeness - with  _ that  _ realisation still lingering in his mind - feels enough to heal all of Peter wounds, to keep him together. Because Harley is all he needs. He knows how deep this knowledge goes. 

He knows why MJ no longer brings the same spark to his heart - and as much as he'll always loved her, he knows that it was always in a different way to Harley. He knows so much and yet, his mind is perfectly empty. For once. 

Peter's content to just lay here with Harley. Whether he feels the same is not a question for right now. He can deal with that later. 

"What do we do now?" Harley asks quietly. 

"We fix this." 


End file.
